


Laying Out All My Cards

by orphan_account



Series: Laying Out All My Cards and its Sequels [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Angst Level: Minimum, F/F, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Sulkygeek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:01:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29209302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: AU, Rachel and Quinn meet as college freshmen. Quinn falls for a girl that her roommate is already infatuated with, basically.
Relationships: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray
Series: Laying Out All My Cards and its Sequels [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2144586
Comments: 1
Kudos: 34





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Laying Out All My Cards  
> Author: Sulkygeek  
> Rating: PG-13/R. I would say this is fairly wholesome-- some underage drinking with fake ID, but that’s about it. There’s barely any swearing in this, even! Minimal angst  
> Length: 30531  
> Spoilers: Through S2, but this is still mostly AU  
> Summary: AU, Rachel and Quinn meet as college freshmen. Quinn falls for a girl that her roommate is already infatuated with, basically.

If Quinn has to hear her roommate rhapsodize about some girl in her stupid music theory class _one_ more time, she’s fairly certain she’ll _explode_ and ideally take Hope out with her.

“She’s just so _cute_ ,” Hope gushes. “I love her. I want to marry her and have a brood of multiethnic children. I’ve always wanted to adopt a child from Ecuador.”

“You haven’t even _talked_ to this girl,” Quinn says irritably.

“I’ve said ‘hi!’” Hope replies defensively.

Quinn sighs. She really likes Hope a lot, but she does not want to hear her gush about this Rachel Berry girl _one_ more time.

It figures Hope, who claims she’s never been attracted to another girl before, would somehow find the one girl on the entire planet she could get it up for in one of her classes. Hope’s a computer science major taking the stupid Music Theory class to satisfy a General Education requirement and Quinn wishes Hope had chosen Ballroom Dancing or The History of War or anything other than this music theory class with a classmate Hope is apparently in love with.

Quinn likes her roommate and considers her a friend, even if she’d only met Hope on Move-In Day at the start of last quarter. But she really wishes Hope would keep her Rachel Berry obsessions to herself. It was cute at first, and now it’s annoying.

Hope seems pretty clueless about the art of secret stalking, so thus far, Hope hasn’t tried to look for this Rachel on MySpace or Facebook. Quinn prays Hope never thinks about it, or else she’d never experience another moment in their shared room where Rachel Berry isn’t the topic of conversation.

Hope is beautiful in that way magazines glorify, but shy and fragile. Quinn was jealous the moment she met Hope for the first time, but protective once Hope opened her mouth. Now, Quinn wants to meet this Rachel Berry to sing Hope’s praises and to plead with Rachel to give Hope a chance and to be kind to her.

\--

They’re leaving their dorm room together early one Saturday morning to go down to the dining hall for breakfast when one of the rooms four doors down opens up-- the Puckerman/Hudson room, Quinn notes. A tiny brunette steps out carrying her high-heeled shoes in one hand. She has a serious case of bed head and is clearly getting ready to do the walk-of-shame.

She quietly shuts the door behind her and with her back still to Hope and Quinn, begins to put her shoes on. She struggles a bit with the straps, but once they’re on, she turns around and spots Quinn and Hope. She meets their eyes and blushes a little, but she smiles, bright and wide.

“Hello… Hope, right?” she says pleasantly. “How are you?”

Hope stares, speechless and agog, until Quinn gives her a sharp elbow to the ribs.

“Hi, Rachel,” Hope manages. “I’m good. How are you?”

Rachel shrugs and laughs softly. “Frankly, I’m a little embarrassed,” she admits, smiling lopsidedly. “But I’m sure I’ll recover, eventually. I feel it is important to recover from abject mortification as quickly as possible because life is too short to be embarrassed for very long.” She smiles warmly at Hope and laughs again. “Right?”

Hope chuckles appreciatively. “Yeah,” she agrees happily.

Rachel looks at Quinn and smiles. “Hello. I’m Rachel.”

“Quinn.”

Rachel smiles again. “I should go, before he…” she points to the door and makes a face. “It was a lamentable lapse in judgment. Copious amounts of alcohol were involved.”

Quinn smiles a bit. “Puck won’t care,” she assures.

“Who’s Puck? The boy I met last night was called Finn. At least he told me he was called Finn.”

Quinn and Hope make faces.

“He’s really tall?” Quinn questions.

“I found the height difference to be intriguing,” Rachel confirms.

“Definitely Finn,” Quinn says, making another face.

Rachel laughs. “He seems very sweet,” she says, feeling the need to defend him, and by extension, her choice in men.

“He is,” Hope agrees. “But he’s…” she trails off, unable to find a diplomatic way of saying ‘he’s a dolt.’

Rachel smiles. “I should get back to my apartment.” She rests a hand Hope’s arm. “I’ll see you in class, Hope” she says, her voice friendly. She smiles again at Quinn. “It was nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

Rachel gives a small wave and walks away.

\--

Hope and Quinn sit at a table in the dining hall, which is mostly deserted because despite being ten am, most of the other students in the dorm are still asleep.

“I hate Finn Hudson,” Hope gripes. “I hate him with the fiery intensity of an infinite army of infinite white hot suns.”

Quinn laughs. “He’s not that bad. And she’s really not that cute.”

Actually, despite the bedhead and smeared make-up, Quinn thinks Rachel is darling, but she wants to give Hope a hard time.

Hope slams her fork onto the table in outrage. “She’s _adorable_!”

“I didn’t see the appeal,” Quinn jokes. “And now we know she has terrible taste in men _and_ she’s kind of a skank.”

“Says the girl who hooked up with _Puck_ the first night we moved in.”

“He told me I was skinny!”

“You’re the one with low standards!”

Quinn snorts. “Whatever.” She pauses. “I was just giving you a hard time, Hope. She’s super cute.”

Hope beams. “Yeah.” Hope looks wistful. “Do you think she’d go out with me?”

“You can always ask. She did know your name.”

Hope smiles. “Yeah.”

“And look on the bright side, if _Finn_ could hook up with her, _you_ could probably get her to go out on a date with you.”

Hope looks eager. “Do you really think so?”

“Yeah. And now you’ve talked to her. You’re halfway there.”

Hope grins. “Yeah,” she comments happily.

Quinn feels for her roommate. Hope is beautiful, but crippled by shyness. Quinn blames Hope’s mother, who is a raging _bitch_.

\--

A few days later, Quinn walks into the Young Library rather than using the main library because it’s less crowded. She just wants a quiet place to study and to start on her paper for her History of Western Civilization class. Hope is extremely quiet, but their neighbors on either side are loud, so it’s hard to study in their dorm room.

Quinn looks around for a place to sit, but all the tables are occupied as are all the one-person cubicles.

Quinn is _irritated_ , but then she sees Rachel sitting alone at a table.

She takes a moment to appraise the object of her roommate’s intense infatuation.

Rachel is dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and a horizontally striped red and grey V-neck sweater. She has her hair up in a loose bun and has a pair of black-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. She has her laptop in front of her and plugged into her laptop is a pair of large baby blue headphones, which make Rachel look like a little kid playing at being a DJ.

Quinn has to admit the girl looks cute and the way Rachel sits with one leg crossed under her and the other leg dangling and swinging to a beat, Quinn can see the appeal. Still, she doesn’t see anything so special Hope would be so crazy about this girl. She sends Hope a text to let her know the object of her crush is at the Young Library and if Hope wishes to take up stalking, she should come over.

Quinn walks to the table and knocks on the flat surface of the table.

Rachel looks up, momentarily startled, sees Quinn and smiles. She removes the headphones from her head and Quinn can hear Arcade Fire’s “Rebellion” blaring from them.

_Come on, hide your lovers, underneath the covers. Come on, hide your lovers, underneath the covers_.

Quinn likes the girl a little more now because it’s one of her favorite songs.

“Hello,” Rachel greets pleasantly. “You’re Hope’s friend, right?”

“Roommate. Yeah.” It’s obvious to Quinn that Rachel has forgotten her name. In truth, the meeting was so brief that in any other circumstances, she would have forgotten Rachel’s name, too, but she’s spent seven weeks hearing about the wonder that is Rachel Berry, and so Quinn has no choice but to remember. “Quinn.”

Rachel smiles. “Hi, Quinn. I’m Rachel.” Rachel glances around. “Are you looking for a place to sit?”

“Yeah,” Quinn says. “Do you mind?”

Rachel smiles warmly. “There’s plenty of space.”

“Thanks.”

Quinn sits down, plugs in her laptop and boots it up. When she glances at Rachel, the brunette has already gone back to her work.

Rachel’s head bobs a little to whatever song she’s listening to, and Quinn resists the urge to ask she’s listening to now.

Quinn takes a break from typing up her paper to glance at Rachel out of the corner of her eye and sees Rachel push her glasses up her nose like she’s Clark Kent. Rachel catches her looking, and they both blush and look away. Quinn has to admit-- the girl is _adorable_.

\--

They’re studying for a full ninety minutes without engaging in any kind of conversation, outside of the time Quinn sneezes and Rachel exclaims “God bless you!” with such sincere cheerfulness, Quinn wonders if Rachel thinks they’re in the middle of the Bubonic Plague and “God bless you” is an efficacious spell against death.

Quinn catches movement out of the corner of her eye and sees Hope stumbling slightly to get into the library. She bites her lip in amusement at her roommate’s entire lack of subtlety.

Rachel doesn’t seem to see a thing-- she is intensely focused on her laptop. Quinn is a little disconcerted by the intensity and has checked a few times to see if Rachel is actually focusing on school work or if she’s watching a movie or something. Each time, Rachel’s actually doing school work.

Quinn pretends to look up and catch a glimpse of her roommate.

“Hope!” she shouts, waving to get her roommate’s attention.

People shush her, and Rachel looks distinctly disapproving which diminishes her approval points in Quinn’s mind by _a lot_.

Hope has the biggest grin on her face.

“Hi, roomie,” Quinn greets.

“Hi,” Hope says with a smile. She bites her lip and smiles at Rachel. “Hi, Rachel.”

Rachel pulls the headphones off and smiles. “Hello, Hope. Are you planning to be here for a while? Will you please consider joining us?”

Hope is too eager to sit and Quinn feels like slapping Hope upside the head for being _so_ obvious, but Rachel seems mercifully oblivious to Hope’s obvious crush. Quinn feels a little bad for Hope because the equation of over-eager crusher to oblivious crushee typically equals a crushed heart.

“How are you?” Rachel asks Hope, keeping her voice low to be mindful of the fact they’re in a library.

“Great,” Hope says with a big smile.”How are you?”

“Fine, thank you,” Rachel answers. She’s getting ready to put the headphones back on her head when Hope speaks.

“I didn’t know you wear glasses.”

Rachel blushes.. “I usually don’t,” she says. “Glasses don’t really suit me --”

“I think they do!” Hope says quickly.

Rachel’s cheeks get even pinker. “Thank you,” she says with a wide smile. “In any case, I ran out of contacts and I was forced to wear these, which I typically do not do outside of my walk from my bedroom to the bathroom in the morning. I’m picking up my contacts tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Hope says.

Rachel gives her another smile before putting the headphones on again.

They work independently for another two hours and then Rachel stands up and stretches. “I should get going,” she murmurs as she begins to pack up. “Hope, I’ll see you in class.”

“Bye, Rachel,” Hope says softly.

“Bye Quinn,” Rachel says with a smile before she walks away.

Hope waits until she’s sure Rachel is gone before she speaks to Quinn.

“Oh my gosh!” she exclaims with a big smile.

Quinn rolls her eyes. “You barely talked to her, you big loser.”

“We’re in a library, Quinn,” Hope points out primly.

Quinn snorts derisively. “You geek.”

“She looked so cute! She wears glasses! I love glasses!”

“Oh dear God,” Quinn groans with a sigh. Rachel did, admittedly, look very cute. But Hope’s crush is borderline ridiculous and thoroughly embarrassing.

\--

When the quarter is ending, Hope doesn’t complain about finals. She complains about the fact she won’t see Rachel in class again. Hope has done nothing about her crush on Rachel and Quinn’s patience wears out.

“You need to grow a pair.”

\--

The quarter ends and the dorm closes for Spring Break. Hope goes home to Alabama. Quinn decides to stay in LA with her friends, Santana and Brittany, who share an off-campus apartment. Santana and Brittany aren’t going home to Austin either, although it was more out of choice. The decision to stay in LA was more or less foisted on Quinn-- she hasn’t seen her dad since she was twelve, and her mom is with her aunt taking a much-needed vacation in Greece, so she can’t go home to Texas.

She’s at the Ralphs in Westwood, which has the shittiest parking known to mankind, but she feels the need to pull her own weight for the week she’s staying with her friends. Brittany is reliably sweet and repeatedly tells Quinn she doesn’t have to do _anything_ , except have some fun with her. But when Quinn offers to get some groceries, Santana shushes Brittany protests and says “hell yeah, you owe us and get me some breadsticks while you’re there, bitch.”

Quinn wants to kill her.

\--

Out of pure spite, she’s selecting the cheapest breadsticks she can find, when she spots Rachel Berry pushing a cart, bickering with another girl that looks a _lot_ like her, except slightly taller.

The first thing that pops into Quinn’s mind is “oh, dear God, there’s _two_ of them.”

She pushes her cart toward Rachel and her doppelganger.

Rachel’s doppelganger is speaking. “I mean, what a letdown. You think Darth Vader is a bad ass and it turns out he’s this pasty white guy and later gets played by Hayden Christiensen. It’s upsetting.”

“Shut up about it already!” Rachel exclaims. “It’s still your favorite movie franchise and I do not need to hear about this _every_ time! I am _never_ watching any of those movies no matter how many times you talk about it!”

“Hi, Rachel.” Quinn greets once she is close enough.

Rachel turns and smiles at her, her ire seeming to disappear. “Hello, Quinn,” she greets pleasantly. “How are you? Is Hope with you?”

“Hope went home to Alabama for Spring Break.” Quinn smiles at the girl with Rachel. “I didn’t know you were a twin.”

Rachel and the other girl make displeased faces, but if their intent is to communicate displeasure at being mistaken for twins, the motion only serves to highlight how alike they look because they make exactly the same unhappy face.

“We’re not twins,” Rachel says. “This is my little sister, Audrey. We’re eleven months apart.”

“Your parents were busy,” Quinn jokes.

Rachel gives her a small smile. “It’s a little more complicated than that. It’s a long story.”

“Our mom was the surrogate for her gay dads,” Audrey interjects, her voice a bored monotone which indicates she’s told this story before. “Mom really wanted a baby after her, though God only knows why,” she says, glancing over at Rachel to see Rachel roll her eyes. “So she begged our dads to donate their junk, they did, and I was born. End of story.”

“Maybe not that long,” Rachel concedes. “But still complicated.”

“Do you guys live together here?” Quinn asks, curious, because she remembers Rachel saying she lives in an apartment.

“God forbid. _No_ ,” Rachel says quickly. “She’s just visiting for Spring Break. She’ll be going to UCSD in the fall after she graduates high school. Our mother just needed a break from her.”

Audrey huffs, but Rachel grins and Audrey grins back. Quinn takes a really good look at them and sees there are definite differences between the two sisters and they’re not as identical as she first thought. But the resemblance is seriously uncanny. Quinn suddenly has the mental image of Rachel being carted off to jail in a case of mistaken identity for a crime spree Audrey commits.

“Don’t you live in the dorms?” Rachel asks curiously. “I thought they were closing.”

“They are. They did. I’m staying with friends. My mom lives in Austin,” Quinn explains, “but she went on vacation with my aunt to Greece, and I didn’t want to go home to an empty house. And I didn’t feel like going anywhere else. So I stayed here.”

“Oh,” Rachel nods. “Neat.”

“You know what we should do?” Audrey says to Rachel. “We should have a party. I’ll go get some beer,” Audrey starts to move toward the refrigerated beverages aisle which is only a few feet away.

“Hold it,” Rachel says, reaching out with one hand to grab Audrey by the hood of her sweatshirt and yanking it, ignoring her sister’s outraged yelp. “Forget it. Neither of us are old enough to legally purchase alcohol and I refuse to enable your criminal impulses by looking the other way. You may have criminal exhortations crying out for release, but I do not.”

The image of Audrey as cat burglar and Rachel as the patsy getting pinned for her crimes remerges in Quinn’s mind and she snorts a little.

Audrey hears and catches Quinn’s eye. “She’s a total doofus, right?”

Quinn doesn’t have the hard line to under-age alcohol purchase Rachel clearly does, but she feels the need to stick up for her because Hope is _that_ infatuated with Rachel.

“Actually, I agree with her,” Quinn says. “Sorry. And before you ask. I’m 19. I’m not old enough to buy it either.”

Audrey frowns, but Quinn can see the girl is not really upset.

“Your friends are nerds, too,” Audrey declares to Rachel, but they share easy smiles.

Quinn finds it difficult to take offense when ‘nerd’ is coming from a teenage girl wearing a Star Wars hoodie non-ironically.

“I’m sorry,” Rachel apologizes to Quinn. “She’s like a ravenous animal. I have to keep her fed to make her docile, hence this shopping excursion.”

Quinn smiles. “It’s cool.”

Quinn is a little sister herself, and she grew up idolizing an older sister who never gave her the time of day. Although the age difference between Rachel and her sister is minimal, Quinn can easily see Audrey kind of idolizes Rachel, though it’s clear she’d never admit it.

“Are you coming to Rachel’s thing tomorrow?” Audrey asks Quinn.

Rachel’s cheeks turn red and she elbows Audrey in the ribs.

“Jesus. _What_?” Audrey snaps, rubbing her ribs.

“What thing?” Quinn asks.

“Her show. There’s this all-ages benefit tomorrow night at Club Yes for the Family Violence Project. It’s a toy benefit for the kids in the shelters. Rachel’s playing a set. She goes on at ten.”

“Isn’t that past your bed time?” Quinn snarks at Audrey.

Rachel laughs and Quinn and Rachel share smiles.

“Yes,” Audrey replies, straight-faced. “But I’ll be sure not to drink any liquids, so by the time I get home, I won’t be as likely to wet the bed in my sleep.”

Rachel laughs again, this time a little louder and she affectionately puts her arm around her sister’s shoulder and rests their heads together.

“Forget she even mentioned it,” Rachel tells Quinn.

“She’s really good,” Audrey says, and it becomes obvious she’s the little sister and Rachel is the worshipped older sibling. “It’s all-ages so there’s going to be kids there, but most of them should be gone by the time Rachel goes on. You just have to bring an unwrapped toy and your admission is free. But a good one. Not something stupid like a Nerf ball.”

Rachel laughs again, full of affection and amusement, and Quinn can see what Hope sees in her.

\--

Quinn has no idea what she’s doing in this bar to see Rachel, especially when Rachel never actually extended an invitation. She tries to tell herself it’s for a good cause, and drags Brittany and Santana along with her. Santana’s still grumbling from having to make a pit stop at Toys ‘R’ Us, but she’s happy with any destination that serves alcohol.

Quinn has a fake ID Santana procured for her years ago, back when they were still in high school back home in Austin and she uses it pretty frequently. But she chooses not to use hers that night out of deference for the underage alcohol purchase conversation she had earlier with Rachel and her sister.

Brittany and Santana sidle up to the bar to grab drinks and Quinn drifts off to scope out a space to stand. There are a few tables around in the audience, but they’re all occupied. The place is crowded, the mood is jovial and so Quinn tries not to be too irritated with the fact that people are brushing up against her. Quinn sees Audrey standing off to the side, near the front of the stage and makes her way over.

“Hi.”

“Hi!” Audrey says brightly. “She’s on next.”

“Cool.”

They stand in silence until Brittany and Santana walk up to them. Santana hands Quinn her plain Coke with a look of vague disgust. “Coke for you, you pansy.”

“Who’s the designated driver?” Quinn demands. “I could just leave you behind.”

Santana sticks up her middle finger, puts her arm around Brittany and watches the stage.

\--

Rachel goes on a little after 10pm. She sets up her guitar, does a sound check she finds satisfactory, sets her guitar down and then sits at the piano. She’s accompanied by a brown-haired guy who kind of looks like a tool in his ridiculous hipster hat, skinny jeans and skinny scarf. She introduces him to the crowd as Jesse St. James and considering the crowd’s favorable reaction, it’s clear he’s fairly popular.

\--

Even Santana, who is notoriously difficult to impress, is clearly impressed by the quality of Rachel’s voice. There’s a mixture of original songs and covers and Rachel covers a broad array of songs from current pop hits, Broadway songs and a few songs from the 80’s and early 90’s. But Quinn is most interested in the songs that are clearly Rachel’s own. Rachel switches adroitly between the guitar and the piano, and a few times eschews instruments to sing a cappella.

Rachel and Jesse sound _amazing_ together, and they both look like they were born to perform. They’re talented, charming and no one takes their eyes off them. There’s palpable chemistry and obvious affection between them and Quinn wonders if they’re dating.

When the set finishes, the audience _explodes_ into applause and Audrey claps hard while she jumps up and down.

Once Rachel and Jesse get off the stage, they make their way to Quinn and the others.

Audrey hugs Rachel first, then Jesse.

Rachel smiles at Quinn. “Hello, Quinn,” she says. “You came.”

“You were great,” Quinn tells her sincerely.

“Thank you,” Rachel responds with a bright smile. She eyes her sister with suspicion. “Let me smell your glass,” she says, reaching for it.

“Ew,” Audrey protests, pulling it away. “Gross. It’s just Coke.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit high-strung?” Jesse asks Rachel.

Rachel glares and holds her hand out.

Audrey sighs and hands over the glass.

Quinn finds it hilarious and wishes she could blame that on the alcohol.

\--

They stay for two other performers and then they all end up at a table at a nearby diner. Rachel’s vegan and claims she’s usually too exhilarated after a show to eat, so she sticks to a cup of black coffee. Santana is drunk-eating and therefore wolfs down an enormous Denver omelet and drunkenly challenges the fat guy sitting a few tables over to a nacho eating contest.

It’s not clear what sets her off, but she goes _off_.

“I could out-eat you! Just because you’re a fat ass doesn’t mean you’d be a better competitive eater than me! I could eat the whole fucking cow!” Santana slurs belligerently. “With extra jalapenos and a shitload of guac and sour cream!”

The guy looks mostly bewildered by Santana’s aggression

“Sorry,” Brittany apologizes. She gives Santana a kiss, which mollifies her a bit.

Santana glares at the man she was harassing and hisses like a cat and makes a vague hand gesture that may or may not be a gang sign, but says nothing else.

He’s clearly unnerved and looks away.

Brittany laughs. Audrey looks fascinated, Jesse looks amused, Rachel looks concerned and Quinn is _mortified_.

\--

Quinn asks Rachel questions about herself-- nothing too personal, mostly about her music, but Rachel seems almost _shy_ which is a surprise to Quinn.

“Don’t be fooled, she loves to talk about herself,” Audrey says.

“Agreed,” Jesse adds.

Rachel’s cheeks flush and she gives a small shrug. “Performing is what I’ve always wanted to do,” she says simply.

The more they talk, the more Rachel opens up. Quinn gets the sense Rachel is hesitant because of Santana and Brittany’s presence, but more specifically, Santana’s. It’s probably wise because of all the people Quinn knows, Santana is the most likely to mock someone.

Quinn wants to tell herself she’s asking so many questions so she can report back to Hope, but she finds herself genuinely interested in Rachel’s responses.

This unsettles her.

\--

She finds out an arsenal of information about Rachel.

Rachel is 5’2” (that bit of information given out in a huff after Santana asks her if she’s a legal midget). Her favorite genre of music is showtunes, and her all-time favorite performer is Barbra Streisand. Her favorite movie is _Funny Girl_ followed closely by _Breakfast at Tiffany’s_. Her favorite book is _To Kill a Mockingbird_ and she has a whopping _twelve_ copies, in different editions. She has _terrible_ eye sight. She’s overly attached to her iPhone-- an affliction Quinn shares. She’s from a small town in Ohio and she plans never going back. She’s going to move to New York after graduation to kick start a Broadway career. She is _emphatically_ not dating Jesse St. James. Anymore, that is, primarily because all three of her parents _hate_ him-- a fact he acknowledges with a casual, dismissive shrug.

Her face is expressive, and she gestures a lot with her hands. When she gets excited, which is a lot, her voice squeaks and she stammers a little. She talks _a lot_ and she talks fast-- it makes Quinn head spin. She is sincere and appears painfully incapable of sarcasm. When she laughs really hard, she tends to do so with an open mouth, her eyes crinkling up.

She’s _adorable_ and Quinn has the urge to ask Rachel ‘do you want get out of here?’ like some cliché from a romantic comedy, but she refrains. Quinn’s never done _anything_ like that before, and though Rachel seems safe, she doesn’t feel ‘safe’ enough where Quinn is willing to risk her admittedly fragile self-esteem.

\--

They exchange phone numbers as their evening draws to a close and Quinn feels _really_ guilty even though she hasn’t done anything wrong.

“You guys should come over for dinner tomorrow,” Rachel offers Quinn, Santana and Brittany. “I’m cooking for these two strays,” she says, gesturing to Jesse and Audrey. “And it’s always more fun to cook for a large group.”

“Do you cook as well as you sing?” Brittany asks.

“Almost,” Jesse informs. “She doesn’t do anything as well as she sings.” He pauses and smiles lecherously. “Well, not quite,” he smirks, leering at Rachel and curling a lock of her hair around his left index finger.

Rachel whacks him in the stomach with the back of her hand, Audrey looks thoroughly grossed out, Brittany and Santana laugh and Quinn wants to bash his face in. She doesn’t like him and she doesn’t like the way Rachel and Jesse treat one another so possessively-- as if they belong to each other. Rachel doesn’t seem angry-- she just seems like she’s putting up the front on principle because after she whacks his belly, she rubs her nose against his cheek and smiles when he laughs because of it.

“We're down, we’ll be there,” Santana says, speaking for herself, Brittany and Quinn.

Quinn’s ire vanishes when Rachel claps her hands and softly cheers. Rachel gives Quinn her address and they separate for the evening.

\--

Quinn, Santana and Brittany go to Rachel’s apartment the next day. It’s off Westwood Boulevard, so obviously there is no parking. Santana gripes as she maneuvers her way into an especially tight parking spot.

“The food better be good,” Santana huffs.

\--

The first thing Santana comments on is the telescope in Rachel’s apartment by the balcony.

“What are you, a Peeping Tom?”

Rachel smiles. “Would you like to try to see Uranus?”

Santana laughs. “Maybe. Bend over.”

Quinn wants to murder Santana, but Rachel just laughs.

\--

Rachel is an _amazing_ cook, and they’re already done eating when they realize the entire meal was vegan.

Santana, a long-time devotee to meat and animal by-products, is annoyed.

“I’m taking you for a burger one of these days,” she tells Rachel. “I’m going to make you eat it and I’m going watch while you stuff that shit in your mouth and swallow it.”

Rachel grins at her. “That sounds positively pornographic, Santana.” she teases. “I’m very interested.”

Santana throws her head back and laughs. “You’re welcome to join Brit and me any time, munchkin.”

Rachel smiles, but doesn’t comment. She turns to Quinn and touches the blonde’s inner wrist. It’s a gesture that feels sweetly friendly and intensely intimate. “Quinn, may I get you anything else? May I refill your beverage?”

“I’m good, thanks,” Quinn says.

Rachel is a _genuinely_ nice person. Quinn keeps waiting to find some massive flaw, but she can’t find anything. She’s spent some time with the girl, and Rachel is just _nice_. She’s sweet, a great singer, and a perfect host. She’s attentive, but not overbearing. She listens to what people say and seems genuinely interested. She laughs heartily at everyone’s jokes, and gently at the jokes which aren’t very funny. She tells stories that are embarrassing for her, and laughs good-naturedly as she does, even when she hides her face when the others laugh at her.

Quinn wishes she could tell Hope, “you’re crazy for liking her this much,” but truthfully, she readily sees the appeal. The attention Rachel shows her is dizzying and makes Quinn feel giddy in a way she hasn’t since middle school. Maybe even ever.

\--

On the drive back to Santana and Brittany’s, Santana contentedly pats her full belly at a stoplight.

“She’s cool people,” Santana says simply, which is as complimentary as Santana gets. She smiles down at the leftovers in a Tupperware container resting on Brittany’s knees. “And now we have lunch tomorrow.”

Brittany glances at Quinn through the rearview mirror. “Hey,” she says. “Isn’t she the girl that Hope has a crush on?”

Quinn’s face flushes. Santana turns to look at Brittany, then looks at Quinn through the rearview mirror, sees the truth reflecting on Quinn’s face and immediately begins to laugh uproariously.

Santana may be her best friend, but Quinn hates her sometimes.

\--

When school resumes and Hope returns to the dorms, she _squeals_ in jealousy and elation when she finds out Quinn spent time with Rachel over spring break.

“Did she ask about me?” Hope asks. She looks like a puppy, and Quinn hates to kick her down.

“Well, when we were at the grocery store, she asked me if you were with me. I told her you were home in Alabama.”

“Did she look disappointed?”

‘Not really,’ Quinn thought. But she smiled. “Kind of.”

“Call her and see when her next show is! We’ll go!”

“Maybe,” Quinn says, though the thought of seeing Rachel’s next show is immediately appealing. “How was your visit home?”

Hope’s features darken. “Not so good.” She pauses like she wants to say something else, but then she smiles. “Call Rachel and ask her when her next show is,” she repeats pleadingly.

Quinn remembers Hope telling her the only thing she ever fought with her mother about growing up was her appearance, and the fights were legion. Quinn has seen numerous pictures of Hope as a child because there are framed pictures of Hope with her father during various ages littering Hope’s side of the room. A real daddy’s girl. Hope was a _beautiful_ child, but apparently the big war when Hope was ten revolved around Mrs. Richland wanting Hope to get her eyebrows waxed and Hope balking-- nearly nine years later, and they were still at war although not over eyebrow waxing, since Mrs. Richland won that round. Quinn only met Mrs. Richland once, but the woman made a terrible impression and Quinn hopes she never has to see the woman again. Mrs. Richland sort of reminds Quinn of her own mother, except Mrs. Richland is much worse.

Quinn’s mother never made many comments about her physical appearance, but Quinn went through a really awkward stage between the ages of six through fourteen-- something Quinn’s older sister never had to go through. Quinn can’t look back on that time in her life without wincing and she refuses to look at pictures of herself through those ages. She’s destroyed most of them, and her mother wasn’t even mad when she found out-- the awkward stage had been _that_ bad and embarrassing for both of them. She used to pray to grow out of it, and knows there truly is a God because her prayers were answered.

She feels confident that she’s pretty now, but Quinn can _readily_ remember the vague, but obvious disappointment in her mother’s face every time school pictures showed up-- her awkward glory captured for an eternity and how her parents seemed embarrassed when they were around her in public. Quinn still feels the shame of it very acutely.

So she acquiesces to Hope’s request to call Rachel, in an effort to change the subject and get her roommate’s mind off her crappy visit home because Quinn really does like her roommate a lot and she wants to make Hope feel better. She can really relate to having a less than ideal relationship with a parent, but she feels especially bad for Hope, whose mother always has a way of making Hope feel not pretty enough. At least Quinn’s mother tells her she’s beautiful now, although that could have been more useful when she was younger and desperately needed to hear it, even if it wasn’t true.

\--

Rachel’s next show turns out to be that night, except it’s at a 21-and over club.

“How are you getting in? You’re only 18,” Quinn says with a frown.

Rachel’s laughter is melodic over the telephone. “I’m the talent.”

Quinn rolls her eyes. “I think we can still arrange to be there.”

“I disavow any knowledge of any law-breaking if you get caught,” Rachel says.

Quinn rolls her eyes again. “Well, don’t squeal on us. No one likes a stool pigeon.”

“I may give you up to the long arm of the law in the short-term, but I’d break you and your compatriots out of prison with a clever ruse.”

Quinn laughs. “Deal.”

Brittany, Santana and Quinn already have fake IDs. Santana is Quinn’s contact to obtain anything contraband from fake IDs, faux Coach purses to cheap concert tickets and jail-broken iPhones, so she places a call to get an ID for Hope. It’s way short notice, but if anyone can come through, it’s Santana.

“I’ll figure something out,” Santana says. She laughs gleefully, full of schadenfreude. “I can’t wait to watch you hang out with the girl you’re sweet on when your roommate liked her first.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Quinn hisses into the phone, self-consciously glancing at Hope, who gives her a smile in return.

Santana laughs again, this time even more boisterous.

\--

Rachel performs solo this time, though Quinn spots Jesse in the audience watching Rachel.

Once again, Rachel is such an amazing performer, Quinn doesn’t understand why this girl isn’t already a household name.

Rachel’s own songs are more folk or pop and on this particular evening, she stays away from covering any show tunes. The crowd goes _crazy_ when she announces she’s going to do a cover of ‘Just Like Heaven’ and it’s clear that her cover of the Cure song is a crowd favorite. When Rachel sings ‘ _show me how you do it, and I promise you, I’ll run away with you_ ’ loud and pleading, instead of melodic and woeful like many other female artists who’ve covered the song, she happens to look right at Quinn and it makes Quinn feel a little dizzy. When she finishes the song, she pauses to wink at Quinn. Quinn waves and Rachel smiles before launching into another song.

After her set is finished, Rachel starts to make her way to their table, but she’s stopped by various people who want to talk to her and congratulate her. Rachel is warm and gracious, and it’s wonderful because Quinn isn’t a person who is accustomed to people who are _that_ genuinely nice, but it’s also a little spirit-dampening because Quinn can see immediately she is nothing special to Rachel-- that Rachel is warm with her because Rachel is warm with _everyone_

Rachel makes her way to their table, with Jesse now on her arm. She greets Hope with a wide smile.

“Hope! I trust your vacation was restful. Did you enjoy spending time with your family?”

Hope’s huge smile dims slightly and Rachel notices.

“Family can be complicated,” Rachel says sympathetically, reaching out to rub Hope’s shoulder. She laughs softly. “I should know.”

“Speaking of which, Berry Part Deux isn’t around?” Santana asks.

Rachel frowns. “Certainly not. She’s not 21 yet. Although…” she smiles at them, leaving the _although none of you are either_ unspoken. “Thank you all for coming. I would buy you all a round of drinks, but…” Rachel chuckles and holds up her wrist which has a neon green band around it to denote she’s underage. She addresses Santana. “And Audrey’s last name isn’t Berry, it’s Corcoran like our mother’s.”

Rachel scampers off after chatting for a few minutes to buy them all bottles of water since “appropriate hydration is important when consuming alcohol.”

She’s a _nerd_ , but she’s _so_ endearing, too.

Rachel is attentive to all of them for the rest of the night, while they sit through two other performers, both of whom are pretty good, but not as good as Rachel.

Rachel makes sure they’re all comfortable and runs off periodically to get more bottles of water or glasses of Coke or a fistful of napkins. When the evening draws to a close, she makes sure Quinn is good to drive before she allows them to depart.

She invites them all the next day for another dinner at her apartment, and everyone readily agrees. They agree on a time for the next day when everyone is done with classes and part-time job. A time is set for 7:45pm. 


	2. Part 2

Hope is giddy on the drive home. Santana and Brittany are in the backseat as Quinn drives to their place to drop them off. Santana’s smile is so huge and wicked, the only apt description is “shit eating.” Hope is singing along to the radio as they drive back to the dorm after dropping off Santana and Brittany.

’Tommy, can you hear me? Can you feel me near you?’ Hope sings happily.

Santana’s grin widens.

“She’s so sweet,” Hope gushes in between songs.

“Yeah,” Quinn agrees.

“See!” Hope exclaims, as if to say, see-this-is-what-all-the-fuss-was-about.

And yes, Quinn does.

Quinn flips through the radio stations and stops at a Barbra Streisand song. It’s really not her type of music, but she gives it a listen and thinks, ‘Rachel probably loves this song.’  
\--

The next day, they trickle into Rachel’s apartment slowly. Hope is too self-conscious and intimidated to go by herself, so she insists on waiting for Quinn to be done with a study group before they take the shuttle over to Rachel’s apartment because parking is particularly congested in that part of Westwood.

Jesse’s already there helping with dinner when Hope and Quinn knock.

Rachel and Jesse are in the midst of singing “You’re the One that I Want,” while they cook, and Rachel only pauses long enough to shout “come in, it’s unlocked!” to resume singing.

Quinn opens the door and sees Rachel and Jesse in the kitchen, singing and dancing.

Rachel has a spatula in her right hand and has her left hand laid flat against Jesse’s chest as wiggles her shoulders toward him, singing, “you’re the one that I want, honey, you’re the one that I want, ooh ooh ooh…” He has his hands on both her hips and has his head close to hers.

They are really good together and even if they aren’t together anymore, their chemistry is undeniable.

They finish the song and bow at one another. Rachel grins when she sees Quinn and Hope. “Hi guys!” she says, waving the hand with the spatula. It seems to startle her that she’s holding it, because she jumps a little and blushes. She sets the spatula down, takes off her apron and rushes over to hug each of them. “Dinner is almost ready. Are either of you extremely hungry? I have crackers and vegan cheese which we can pretend are suitable hors d’ oeuvres.”

Quinn and Hope smile, but each decline the offer.

Rachel gives Hope a quick tour of the apartment, then makes sure both Quinn and Hope are comfortable before she goes back to the kitchen to resume cooking. Jesse approaches Quinn and Hope with two opened bottles of beer and smirks at each of them before he rejoins Rachel in the kitchen.

Santana and Brittany show up a few minutes later and each gratefully take the bottle of beer Jesse offers them.

\--

Once again, the meal is amazing.

Rachel’s baked cookies for dessert and also packs up little baggies of cookies for everyone to take home.

“These are so much better than Diddy Riese,” Brittany compliments effusively.

“Fuck Diddy Riese,” Rachel says, sounding uncharacteristically vicious. It’s the first time Quinn can remember Rachel cursing not only in a manner that just seems gratuitous, but really meaning it. “They aren’t even very good. There should be rainbows shooting out of those cookies and come in gold wrappers for the lines that place has. I loathe it.”

Santana laughs hard. “You’re an evil cow.” But she sounds happy about it. It’s the sort of thing Santana delights in.

Rachel shrugs and grins. “I’m not Pollyanna and cookies are a serious business.”

“Santana likes you because you feed her,” Brittany tells Rachel. “If you made her breadsticks, she might marry you.”

“I would be honored to marry you, Santana,” Rachel says. “And I do have a good breadsticks recipe. If you guys would like to come over for dinner next week, I can make them for you. However, before I enter into something as serious and committed as matrimony, I must ascertain your stance on Broadway musicals as this is a subject matter in which I cannot compromise.”

“Not a fan. I may be too gay to walk straight, but then again I’m drunk a lot. But I’m not that gay.”

Rachel sighs melodramatically. “Regrettably, we could never be married.”

Santana gazes at her for a moment before she takes another bite of a cookie. “You’re lucky you’re cute. And that you can cook.”

Rachel smiles crookedly. “Why? Otherwise we’d have to arm wrestle?”

“I’d glass you.”

Rachel looks excited. “If you swap out the glass with a knife, we can act out West Side Story.” She’s bouncing in her seat at the prospect and her hands rub together like she’s scheming.

“You’re really lucky you’re cute and you can cook,” Santana says after a moment of quiet.

Quinn kind of agrees, but Rachel’s love of musicals which almost borders on pathology, does not diminish her overall appeal.

Rachel laughs. “You’re all still invited to dinner next week, and I’ll make you breadsticks, Santana. The performance of Broadway songs isn’t mandatory, but of course, it’s still preferred.”

\--

Rachel insists on driving them all home since each of them either took the shuttle or walked. It’s really not that far, but getting chauffeured is better than the alternatives, so everyone readily agrees. Jesse stays behind in Rachel’s apartment to finish cleaning up and Quinn wonders if he’s staying the night and what he and Rachel will do once the brunette returns from taking the rest of them home.

Rachel drops off Santana and Brittany first and as Santana gets out, she looks at Quinn and says, “see you later, Ms. Daisy, because that fugly ass dress makes you look just like Jessica Tandy!”

Santana roars with laughter, Quinn blushes a dark red because she honestly thought she looked cute. Hope looks outraged on Quinn’s behalf and squeezes Quinn’s hand and then assures her she looks great. Rachel chides, “Santana Lopez, that is extremely impolite!”

“Save it, Morgan Freeman!” Santana calls back, before she shuts the car door, wraps her arm around Brittany’s waist and walks into their building.

Quinn wonders if she could murder Santana and get away with it. Santana is the type of friend who could decimate someone’s self-esteem, but could be counted on to hide a body in the event of accidental or non-accidental murder. Quinn loves her like a sister, but she entertains thoughts of Santana-cide the entire way home.

\--

The rest of the night, Hope is on a natural high from the evening.

“She’s great, right?” Hope asks.

“Yeah,” Quinn agrees quietly.

“Do you think she and that Jesse guy are together?”

“She says they’re not.”

“They seem like they’re together.”

Quinn suppresses a sigh at the thought. “Yeah,” she says softly.

\--

The next week at the dinner, Rachel makes breadsticks for Santana. Quinn thinks her friend is on the verge of proposing because the breadsticks are delicious.

At end of the dinner, Rachel extends another invitation to dinner the following week and Quinn wonders if this will turn into a regular thing. She really hopes so.

\--

A few weeks later, Quinn and Hope host a party in their dorm room for Hope’s 19th birthday. Rachel is invited and mercifully leaves Jesse behind, but brings her friend, Mike Chang, with her, who is apparently visiting from New York.

Rachel hands Hope her gift and gives her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I really hope you like it,” she says sincerely. “It reminded me of you.”

Hope’s pale cheeks are a deep pink. “Thank you!”

Rachel’s eyes meet Quinn’s and Rachel smiles widely. “Hello, Quinn,” she greets, giving the blonde a hug.

“Hey, Rachel.”

\--

The dorm room is tiny. But everyone sits or stands close to one another and it works out okay. Hope doesn’t have a huge cast of friends, but most people on the dorm floor like her, and she’s certainly the object of many people’s crushes, so there’s large enough turn-out that they have to keep the door open and the party spills out into the hallway. Alcohol is very carefully and furtively consumed.

Quinn catches Rachel standing off to the side, sipping from a bottle of water, and gazing at Hope who is currently deeply engaged in a conversation Mike Chang.

“Hey Rachel,” Quinn greets when she approaches the other girl. “Having fun?”

Rachel smiles. “Hi, Quinn. Yes, of course I am. How are you?”

They have to stand extremely close together in order to hear each other over the music and chatter.

“I’m good,” Quinn replies. She gazes at Hope and Mike. “He seems like a nice guy.”

“He is genuinely the nicest guy I know.”

“Not Jesse?”

Rachel snorts. “Jesse is not a nice guy,” she says. She smiles. “I care for him anyway.”

Mike seems to feel her staring, because he turns and waves. She smiles and waves back.

“Ex-boyfriend?”

Rachel turns to Quinn and smiles crookedly. “Yes. The one before Jesse.” She turns her attention back to Hope and Mike and gazes at Hope. “She’s very beautiful,” Rachel comments, a little wistfully.

Quinn suppresses her jealousy. “She is,” she agrees.

“She could be a model.”

“I know.”

Quinn can concede she was kind of a bitch in high school when it came to other people’s appearances. People were so down on her for so long about her appearance, that when she finally grew into her face by the time she was fourteen, she kind of felt entitled to be a bitch to other people. She looks back on it with regret, but when people comment on Hope’s beauty, it always makes her feel a little uncomfortable and jealous because Hope really is just too pretty, it makes Quinn want to hate her.

Hope is beautiful, but people just seem to like her for who she is. Quinn grew up friendless, even when she tried her hardest to be nice to everyone and it wasn’t until she got pretty that people started to be nice to her-- and she was a bitch to them.

Quinn wouldn’t go back to her ugly duckling self for anything-- it took so much work and discipline to get to where she is now, and as shallow as this may make her, she would simply rather be pretty and unhappy than ugly and happy or ugly and successful or even ugly and loved. But more than anything, she wants to meet one person for whom her appearance isn’t her only draw. She knows she’s projected perfection on Rachel and started to believe the brunette is so sweet and kind-hearted, that she’s above noticing shallow things like beauty. But duh, Rachel isn’t blind and Quinn knows it’s unfair to want so much from a girl she barely knows, but she feels kind of let-down by how entranced Rachel seems by Hope at the moment. Hope does look especially pretty at the moment-- every bit the blue-blooded Southern belle she is. Quinn really wants Rachel to look away from Hope and notice her.

“She’s so shy though,” Rachel notes. “That life would be too much for her.”

“Yeah,” Quinn agrees.

Hope is a computer science major, and not particularly social. Quinn can’t imagine Hope being able to last in a field that notoriously scrutinizes every aspect of one’s personal appearance.

Rachel gives her a winsome smile. “What about you? Would that life be too much for you?”

Quinn snorts softly. “I never thought about it.”

“Maybe you should,” Rachel ventures.

“Definitely not,” Quinn says quietly.

Rachel laughs softly.”Give it some thought. The modeling world would be lucky to have you.” She pauses and looks wistfully at Hope. “I sometimes wish I looked more like that,” Rachel confesses. “I love roles like Rizzo and Elphaba, but those are the kind of roles people expect me to be in. I think if I looked the way Hope does, maybe people wouldn’t find the idea of casting me as Sandy or Glinda to be so ludicrous, and not only because I’m not blonde, but because I don’t look anything like those girls who play roles like that are supposed to look. I would be fine in those roles. Spectacular, if I’m going to own up to my ego.”

That makes Quinn smile. “I’d believe you as Sandy or Glinda,” she says quietly.

Rachel smiles crookedly. “Quinn Fabray, you are very sweet,” she murmurs. She tilts her head to the side. “Do you have a middle name?”

“Celeste,” Quinn informs.

Rachel gives a little nod. “Meaning ‘heavenly and divine,’ she says. “It seems very appropriate for you, Quinn Celeste Fabray.”

It’s just the sort of thing where Quinn can’t figure out if Rachel is being sweet or if she’s flirting.

“Thanks,” Quinn says softly. “Do you have a middle name?”

Rachel’s smile is wry. “Barbra.”

Quinn pauses. “As in Streisand?”

Rachel smiles. “Precisely.”

Quinn smiles back. She’s starting to get the rhythm of this girl. “Your parents are big fans, huh?”

Rachel shrugs. “My parents are kind of…I guess you could call them stage parents. They’ve been grooming me for fame since I was born. Even before I was born, I suppose. I guess it’s a good thing I was interested from the very beginning.” Rachel pauses. “Audrey wasn’t so lucky.”

“Why’s that?”

Rachel shrugs. “My fathers put me in a singing contest when I was eight months old and--”

“Did you even talk yet?” Quinn interrupts, a little horrified by the idea of an infant in a singing contest.

“I was always very musically verbal,” Rachel says matter-of-factly.

Quinn looks for a hint of sarcasm, but Rachel is utterly guileless.

“When Audrey was born, our fathers wanted to do the same with her. Our mom let them do it, because she was entertaining the same thoughts. Audrey cried the whole time. She has a good singing voice-- evidently, it’s genetic and I’d one day like to do some research on that, but in any case, it never mattered to Audrey because she hated it. But I loved doing the shows, classes and competitions. Audrey hated it and they fought all the time. It’s kind of the reason I ended up in LA because I actually wanted to go to NYU. Our parents didn’t give up on Audrey becoming an entertainer somehow, so when she was a junior and I was a senior in high school, they said the only way they’d pay for college is if she went to school in LA. I guess they thought if she were here, she’s absorb the desire to be famous through osmosis. When I was applying for colleges, I wasn’t confident our parents would relent and I was pretty sure she’d come out this way and I wanted to be around if our parents came down too hard on her. I think they finally realize she’s not interested because she’s going to UCSD in the fall, and they’re paying for it.”

Quinn thinks that sounds psychotic and for the first time in a long time, she’s really glad her father walked out on the family because he was a similar kind of parent. He wasn’t a stage parent, and didn’t want her to be an entertainer, but he had specific ideas about what his family should look like and he never let her forget that she just wasn’t up to his standards.

Since she was 14, she’s always wished she could see him again, if only to show him, see, I’m pretty now!, but it’s moments like these when other people’s parental expectations seem so overwhelming, that she’s glad he’s not around. It’s always been hard enough being satisfactory in the eyes of her mother, she knows she could never achieve in the eyes of her father.

“I know about unreasonable family expectations,” Quinn says, her expression sour.

“Well, they’re only unreasonable as it relates to Audrey. For me, I really want it. My parents and I want the same things for me, we just have a slightly different ideas about what that looks like. My fathers just want me to be famous, but I don’t really want fame or celebrity, although those would be serendipitous side effects. What I really want is achievement. And my mom gets that. But sometimes it does feel a bit much, from all of them. They can all be…very demanding.”

“I get that,” Quinn says. “I’m kind of the ugly duckling in my family.”

“I think the more appropriate colloquial term is ‘black sheep,’ Quinn. Although I can’t fathom that scenario either.”

“No,” Quinn says softly. “I really mean ugly duckling. I was really awkward for a really long time.”

“Everyone goes through an awkward stage, Quinn. It’s only natural. You’re so beautiful now, and one’s basic facial structure is always present. I’m certain you’re remembering it differently from the way it actually was.”

“I’m really not,” Quinn says quietly. “You wouldn’t have wanted to talk to me. You wouldn’t have even wanted to look at me. No one else did.”

Rachel smiles sympathetically and squeezes Quinn’s hand. “I would have looked at you. I would have talked to you. We could have been ugly ducklings together.”

Quinn smiles wryly. “Thanks, but you don’t have to make me feel better. It was a long time ago.”

Not long enough in Quinn’s opinion.

Rachel shrugs a little. “I want to make you feel better. No one deserves to feel that way about themselves and you seem like a really good person. I think you’re worth getting to know.”

“Maybe. I guess. I don’t know.”

Rachel smiles. “You’re very beautiful,” she says softly. “But I suspect you’re more than that. Perhaps we can start a very exclusive club now called The Ugly Ducklings. Should I get t-shirts made?”

Quinn feels like crying and laughing at the same time. Damn this girl for making her feel so emotional. Quinn struggles for an adequate response, but a look of horror crosses Rachel’s face.

“It’s that Finn boy!” Rachel says, her voice hushed. “I never wanted to see him again. I have to leave!”

Quinn turns around and sees Finn and Puck lumbering toward them. She only has her back to Rachel for a millisecond, but by the time she’s turned back, Rachel is already stepping toward Hope and Mike who are still engaged in a conversation. Rachel talks to Hope briefly, hugs her and then grabs Mike and flees. Finn looks confused and he steps to Quinn.

“Is she coming back? I met her a few months ago at a party, and I haven’t seen her since. I really want to take her out.”

Quinn wants to slug him.

\--

They’re back at Rachel’s apartment a few days later and Rachel has set up the apartment with balloons and streamers to honor Hope’s birthday. She’s cooked Hope’s favorite meal after checking in with Quinn and has baked Hope a red velvet birthday cake. The cake has cream cheese frosting and has been meticulously decorated to depict a microchip.

“Because you’re a computer science major!” Rachel chirps.

Hope looks giddy by the attention.

\--

The dinners start to become a regular thing at Rachel’s apartment and eventually become more of a potluck with people bringing over various ingredients to cook. Rachel doesn’t mind when people bring over things like meat, cheese, eggs or milk to cook in her kitchen, but she sticks to her vegan diet and people generally try to be vegan-friendly. Except Santana who seems to bring meat or dairy purely on principle.

It’s typically the highlight of Quinn’s week.

\--

The quarter ends and it’s time for summer break.

Hope goes home to Alabama for the entire summer, but Quinn sticks around for the first part of the summer for summer school. Audrey visits Rachel for the first four weeks of summer and Quinn can see how glad Audrey is to be with Rachel again.

The dinners at Rachel’s apartment continue in Hope’s absence.

\--

Quinn gets out of class at two pm one day and contemplates her next move. She’s starving after two back-to-back two-hour classes and she hasn’t eaten all day because she overslept in the morning. She contemplates getting something to eat on campus or just going back to Brittany and Santana’s apartment and putting something in the microwave. Neither option appeals to her all that much.

Her phone rings-- it’s Rachel.

Quinn grins and answers.

“Hi, Rachel.”

“Hi friend,” Rachel says cheerfully. “A and I are getting off to a late start today. We’re going to get some lunch and then we’re going to that Psychiatry Museum on Sunset. Would you be interested in accompanying us?”

“Psychiatry Museum?”

“Yes. I think the clinical term for the people who run it is ‘wackjobs,’ but it sounds very interesting.”

“Where are you guys going to eat?”

“I don’t know yet. It doesn’t matter to me, you guys can choose.”

“Okay,” Quinn says. “Do you want me to meet you guys? I’m still on campus.”

“Did you walk today?”

“I took the shuttle.”

“Then, I’ll pick you up,” Rachel says. “I cannot have my friend run the risk of hit-and-run by being a pedestrian in this part of town! Where are you?”

Quinn rolls her eyes at Rachel’s theatrics. “Uh, near the Young Library.”

“I’ll pick you up by the entrance to Lot 3, okay?”

“Okay,” Quinn replies.

“We should be there in ten minutes.”

“Okay.”

“Yay!” Rachel cheers softly, before laughing and hanging up.

Quinn chuckles a little, shakes her head and stuffs her phone back into her pocket.

\--

Quinn can’t fight the grin that crosses her face when she sees Rachel’s car pull up. Rachel waves and Quinn waves back before she gets into the backseat.

“Hi,” Quinn greets.

“Hi,” Rachel says, beaming at Quinn.

“Hey,” Audrey says

“Are you craving anything?” Rachel asks Quinn.

“No, not really,” Quinn answers.

“I’m craving sushi,” Audrey tells Rachel.

“I don’t care about your cravings,” Rachel shoots back.

“Well, I don’t care that you don’t care.”

“Well, I don’t care that you don’t care that I don’t care.”

“Well, I--”

“Seriously?” Quinn interrupts, a little annoyed. “You guys are seriously doing this?”

Both Rachel and Audrey turn to give her identical sheepish smiles. “Sorry,” they say together. They are both petite and elfin. The impish grins they bestow make the annoyance melt away and Quinn can only smile back as Rachel and Audrey face one another and laugh before Rachel turns her attention back to the road and Audrey occupies herself with changing the radio station which makes Rachel complain, which then starts the whole process of bickering over a new subject.

In that moment, Quinn knows that despite the way the two sisters bicker with one another and the occasionally disrespectful tone Audrey gets with Rachel, they adore one another.

Quinn feels a moment of unhappiness as she thinks about her own relationship with her older sister. Granted she is much younger than Zoey, but she wishes she’d been somewhat interesting to her sister. When Quinn grew out of that awkward stage, she thought maybe she would be worthy of her sister’s interest, but her sister has always treated her with a decided lack of interest and that has never wavered.

She wonders what it is about her that makes people even in her own family wholly uninterested in getting to know her. Other than Brit, Santana, Hope and now Rachel, Quinn really can’t say she has any other friends. She has plenty of acquaintances, and she can always find someone in class to sit next to, strike up a conversation with, or buddy up on a paired project, but she doesn’t have many friends she’d call if she were in trouble or even if she were just lonely and didn’t feel like eating alone. She tells herself not to take it personally, but when it’s been the one consistent, constant truth in her life, it’s hard not to think of the problem being her.

\--

They end up at a steakhouse, of all places, because Rachel admits the occasional indulgence in a medium-well steak.

Rachel and Audrey squabble as Rachel embarrassingly attempts to commandeer Audrey’s plate so she can cut up Audrey’s steak into bite-sized pieces.

“Oh my God! I know how to use a fork and knife!”

“I’m just trying to help you! I used to do this for you all the time! You liked it!”

“Oh, shut up!”

It’s ridiculous the way Rachel infantilizes Audrey-- from repeatedly asking Audrey if she needs anything else, because she would gladly flag down a waiter if Audrey does, to the solicitous way Rachel asks Audrey if her food has been cooked to her satisfaction. But Quinn also thinks it’s kind of sweet.

Rachel excuses herself to take a phone call from a venue that wants to book her within the next week, leaving Quinn and Audrey alone.

“Hey,” Quinn says to Audrey. “Cut your sister some slack, okay?

“She’s a tiny pain in my ass,” Audrey huffs.

“She’s just being a sister.”

“I know,” Audrey says. “But I’m not a little kid anymore and she’s not obligated to take care of me. And she’s not even a year older than I am. We’re like the same age.”

“I know,” Quinn murmurs. “But she obviously loves you. If I had a little sister, I would be the same way.”

“I know,” Audrey concedes. “But I’m not a little kid with cancer-plagued parents anymore. She really doesn’t have to take care of me. I can do it myself.”

Quinn blinks. “What?”

“Each of our parents had cancer at one time or another,” Audrey informs. “It was very Dave Eggers.” Seeing the look on Quinn’s face, Audrey hurriedly added. “Don’t worry, they’re all still alive, and they’re all healthy now.”

For whatever reason, an image of Rachel as a little kid trying to be a mini adult comes to mind. Quinn pictures a miniature version of Rachel dressed up in her mother’s clothes, cooking in the kitchen.

“Did you guys live near a nuclear disaster site I didn’t hear about?”

Quinn tries to keep her voice light-- anything this serious makes her a little uncomfortable, but she’s actually completely freaked out.

Audrey snorts. “No, just genetic disasters, I guess. Our daddy-- John, he got lung cancer when I was six.”

‘When Rachel was seven,’ Quinn silently adds.

“Then our other dad Peter got skin cancer when I was ten.”

‘When Rachel was eleven,’ Quinn thinks.

“And then two years later our mom got breast cancer.”

‘When Rachel was thirteen,’ Quinn thinks.

“That’s awful,” Quinn says quietly.

“It wasn’t as bad as it could have been,” Audrey says. “I had Rachel. She moved in with me and our mom when our daddy got sick because our dad was taking care of him and then again when our mom got sick to help take care of her.”

“What about when your other dad got sick?”

“She stayed to help take care of him.”

“Oh,” Quinn says.

“But I helped too, then,” Audrey adds quickly, sounding very much like the ten year old she would have been back then.

It makes sense to Quinn now why Rachel is always taking care of people. And Quinn can no longer deny the fact her feelings for Rachel have turned romantic, because she wants to take care of Rachel and she’s never wanted to take care of anything or anyone in her life--not even a plant or a pet. Quinn wants to cook for her and ask her how she slept last night and remind her to take her vitamins because Quinn is vehemently certain that as a vegan, Rachel is sure to have an iron deficiency, and the mere fact she even devotes that much time to thinking about another person is sure evidence that she is falling.

Rachel comes back to the table, grinning from ear-to-ear and Quinn knows Rachel’s booked a venue she really wants to play at, and she’ll be getting paid fairly well, too.

Rachel is an anachronism-- she’s this throwback to a time when people were less cynical and more wholesome. Other than a lack of civil rights, Rachel would have fit right in back in Quinn’s concept of the 1950s. She’s polite, genuine, optimistic and loves without embarrassment and enjoys without irony.

Quinn likes that-- a lot.

“Hello,” Rachel greets. She puts her hand on Quinn’s shoulder and musses Audrey’s hair before she sits down. Audrey makes a tiny, grumpy noise, but otherwise doesn’t make a big deal.

“Hey, where are you playing?” Audrey asks.

“Blue Note,” Rachel says, smiling.

“Cool,” Audrey comments.

“A will be gone by then,” Rachel says turning to Quinn. “But would you like to come?”

Quinn smiles. “Sure.”

The food arrives a few seconds later.

\--

Quinn watches in utter fascination as Rachel, who Quinn has never seen eat more than a fourth of her plate (because she just talks too much), eats the whole quarter pound steak and accompanying steamed vegetables and mashed potatoes. And refills her glass of iced tea-- twice.

“Holy shit,” Audrey says. “I know you ate yesterday. What the hell? Are you preparing to hibernate? You eat less in a week. That was straight up bear status, sister.”

Rachel blushes a deep, pretty scarlet and kicks Audrey’s leg under the table. “I was hungry,” she mutters petulantly.

Quinn laughs because it makes Rachel seem more real. Rachel always seems a little too perfect-- always so nice, so magnanimous, with the right words to say. Seeing her embarrassed about eating so much just makes her seem like a real college girl and not the blissful, relaxed, above-it-all image she usually gives off.

\--

Rachel reaches for the check when it arrives.

Quinn tries to yank it away to take a look at the total to pay her fair share, but Rachel slips a credit card inside and waves Quinn away.

“You can take me to lunch another day,” Rachel says with a grin.

“But--”

“I insist,” Rachel murmurs. “Because I invited you.”

And damn it, once again, Quinn is just too charmed.

\--

They head to the museum which is sufficiently creepy for a number of reasons, which Quinn and Audrey passionately enumerate.

Rachel is as perky and diplomatic as ever after the tour.

“I don’t agree with their stance on psychiatry, but it was certainly interesting!”

Quinn wonders if, other than a peculiarly strong stance on Diddy Riese cookies, Rachel ever has anything negative to say about anyone or anything.

\--

They end up at Santa Monica Pier, because Quinn makes an off-handed comment about not having been there yet and both Rachel and Audrey gasp in horror.

“Rach took me there during Christmas when I visited her! You have to go!”

“We’re going,” Rachel says firmly.

Quinn agrees because she doesn’t want to go home yet. It’s Santana and Brittany’s apartment anyway and couch surfing is not fun. But she doesn’t see anything that special about the place. She has fun nonetheless.

\--

It’s dark by the time they’re driving home and Quinn can’t believe this day she thought was going to be mundane would turn out to be so much fun.

When she was younger, she had no friends and was never included in anything. After she transformed herself from ugly duckling to swan and went to high school, she was always included in plans, but she never got the impression anyone really wanted her there-- it was more just out of obligation. But this day with Rachel and her sister-- Quinn really understood what it felt like to be wanted.

Rachel hums to the radio as she drives, but soon she starts to sing along. At first, Audrey and Quinn are content just to listen to Rachel sing-- she doesn’t even seem to realize she’s doing it-- it’s so second nature to her.

‘Sweet Caroline’ comes on and Rachel and Audrey look at one another and share a tiny, secret smile.

Rachel turns briefly to smile at Quinn. “This boy on campus serenaded me with this song once,” she says. “He was trying to convince me to go out with him.” Rachel chuckles. “He was a good kisser, but very short attention span.” She pauses. “And I find his Mohawk to be somewhat infantile.”

Quinn makes a face at the mention of the Mohawk. There’s plenty of boys on campus with a Mohawk, but she thinks of Noah Puckerman immediately because he has a Neil Diamond fixation. “His name isn’t Puck, is it?”

Rachel pauses. “I call him Noah.”

Quinn bursts out laughing. “You know he’s that guy, Finn’s, roommate. Or at least he was.”

Rachel laughs. “What?!”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my God.”

“Who’s Finn?” Audrey asks Rachel.

Rachel looks at Quinn through the rearview mirror and gives Quinn a tiny, secret smile and Quinn feels the thrill of being included. “No one of any consequence, so you can just forget about it,” Rachel tells her.

Rachel continues to sing along with the song, but once the chorus comes along, Audrey softly sings “baa baa baa” which makes Rachel “baa baa baa” the next time. Then, Quinn finds herself joining in. Once she does, all three of them are singing along to the whole song as loudly as they can.

Rachel laughs happily once the song is over and she is clearly in such a good mood. And of course, her laughter is infectious.  
“Quinn, your voice is so beautiful!” Rachel exclaims.

Quinn blushes. “Thanks”

“Of course, you don’t have my training or background, but it is lovely.”

“Of course,” Quinn deadpans. “And thanks.”

She shakes her head a little. This girl. Jesus.

\--

It’s one of those amazing car rides where the traffic on the freeway just flows and then all the lights on the surface streets are green. The windows are rolled down as they barrel down the highway and every song on the radio happens to be one they all know. They sing along with every song and right after they finish singing along to ‘867-5309 Jenny,’ Rachel laughs delightedly and throws one of her arms around her sister, and pulls Audrey into a half-hug. She then stretches her arm back, her hand fumbling for Quinn’s. Quinn laughs, grabs Rachel’s hand and leans forward. When Rachel squeezes, Quinn squeezes back. Rachel laughs again and pulls her hand away and briefly touches her palm to Quinn’s cheek before putting both hands on the steering wheel again.

When Rachel drops her off, Quinn is a little sorry to have the night end.

Even the music on the radio seems to have changed to fit the mood and is now playing ‘Sweet Baby James’ which Rachel hums along to, rather than sings.

“Good night, guys,” Quinn says, leaning down to peer into the car. “Thanks for everything.”

“I had fun, we should do this again,” Rachel says with a smile. “Are you doing anything for lunch tomorrow?”

Tomorrow is Saturday and Quinn has no plans.

“No, why?”

“Come over for lunch,” Rachel says. “We’ll hang out.”

Quinn grins. “Okay.”

Quinn walks calmly into the building because she knows Rachel is watching to make sure she gets in safely. But once she’s inside and she knows Rachel has already driven away, she giggles and jumps up and down a few times, spinning around in place and skipping toward the elevator that will take her to Santana and Brittany’s third floor apartment. She feels absolutely ridiculous for it, but she’s never felt this giddy over a person before. It’s embarrassing and she feels foolish, but she feels joy, too, and she can’t remember the last time another person makes her feel like this.

It’s only when she gets into Brittany and Santana’s apartment and sees Santana’s knowing smirk that Quinn remembers Hope. And the fact that Hope liked Rachel first.

‘Fuck,’ Quinn thinks.

\--

Hope’s always been good to her, and is amongst one of the few people Quinn can honestly say is a friend.

Hope is like this other world version of her and Quinn can’t stand the thought of hurting someone so much like her.

This doesn’t stop Quinn from showing up at Rachel’s apartment the next day.

\--

Quinn arrives a little early to help Rachel make lunch, but finds out that Rachel doesn’t like people other than herself (and occasionally Jesse) helping her in kitchen, so Quinn is relegated to the living room with Audrey.

Rachel has Funny Girl on and insists that even if she can’t see it, she can hear it, and won’t let Audrey turn it off or switch over to something else, despite the fact there’s a Star Wars marathon playing on the USA network.

Quinn doesn’t mind because Rachel sings along to every song and even starts speaking some of the dialogue. It’s the kind of thing she would find annoying and geeky in anyone else, but adorable in Rachel-- which is really turning into the story of her life. She really loves hearing Rachel sing.

Rachel sets their plates out with flourish-- a simple salad in bowls with vegetable stir fry and rice on another plate. Quinn does a double take when she sees that the rice has been shaped to resemble pandas-- with seaweed to decorate the black parts.

Audrey chuckles. “Rachel used to make and pack my lunch when she lived with us when our mom got sick and she would always make it look cute.” She smiles crookedly. “I used to brag to my friends about how my sister packed my lunch,” she says, rolling her eyes self-deprecatingly. “It was never anything lame like a peanut butter sandwich and a bag of chips-- it was always something like this,” she said pointing to her plate.

“I loved doing it,” Rachel murmurs, leaning in close to her sister. “You know that. It was never a big deal. Good nutrition is very important, and I just wanted to be sure you had a good meal. And it makes me happy you told your friends about me. I never knew that.”

Audrey shrugs, seemingly a little embarrassed, but Rachel smiles tenderly and then ruffles Audrey’s hair. Audrey doesn’t even complain.

Quinn feels like she’s intruding on a private moment, but then Rachel smiles at her and Quinn feels included again.

“Do you have any siblings, Quinn?” Rachel asks. “Ideally they are not as painful to deal with as this one,” she says, gesturing to Audrey.

Quinn feels a little pang at the thought of her sister. “She’s older,” Quinn says. “We’re not very close.”

“How far apart are you?”

“Eight, almost nine years,” Quinn replies.

“Why aren’t you close?” Audrey asks, her eyes wide, like she can’t conceive of there being any other sibling relation than the one she has with Rachel--which, she probably can’t. Quinn envies her for that.

“She just never found me particularly interesting,” Quinn answers, a little uncomfortable. She doesn’t really want to talk about this, not with Audrey present.

Rachel smiles at her reassuringly. “I think you’re interesting. Your sister has no idea what she’s missing.”

Quinn chuckles. “Thanks.”

\--

A few days later, Quinn is back in Rachel’s apartment for one of their dinners, but Santana and Brittany are with her. Jesse and Audrey are both there as well, and this time, Jesse does most of the cooking.

Quinn is a little wary, but she’s pleasantly surprised to find the food is actually pretty good.

When Hope emails her that night and happens to close the email with “do you see much of Rachel lately?”

Quinn feels awful

\--

One night, it’s just Rachel and Quinn for dinner. Santana and Brittany are off to visit Solvang, possibly as some ridiculous homage to Brittany’s Dutch roots. Jesse has a show at a 21-and-over club and Rachel is only eighteen and without a fake ID, so she can’t go. Audrey has already gone back to Ohio.

It feels kind of weird to be alone with Rachel because they’ve always spent their time together in a group, but it’s also really nice to have some time alone.

\--

Quinn’s favorite food in the entire universe is bacon. Even when she was on a strict diet, she still gave into bacon cravings-- she just made sure to run a couple extra miles every time she gave into the craving, which was more than she’d like to admit.

Rachel makes Quinn the best BLT sandwich she’s ever had. Rachel makes a BLT for herself, too, but uses facon in lieu of bacon for hers. Quinn is too delirious with how deliciously crisp her bacon is to mock Rachel for eating (and liking) facon.

Afterward, they suck on homemade popsicles and drink peach-basil margaritas (apparently Rachel isn’t as big a goody two shoes as she seems) while they watch terrible reality TV whilst lounging on Rachel’s sofa.

Quinn wants to make fun of Rachel for her clearly terrible taste in TV, but Rachel always seems so unabashed about what she loves, Quinn doubts it would matter if she did.

It’s a hot summer night, but Rachel has the air-conditioning on, so it’s comfortable.

They watch purported housewives who are allegedly friends with one another be mean to each other. Rachel looks titillated and Quinn is thoroughly amused by Rachel’s truly terrible taste in TV.

“May I get you a refill on your drink?” Rachel asks Quinn once the program is over.

“I’ll get it,” Quinn says, sitting up straighter. She actually would like a refill on her water after the four glasses of margaritas she consumed.

“Don’t be silly, you’re my guest.”

Quinn’s been in Rachel’s apartment enough times she no longer feels like a guest. But Rachel just seems like the kind of person who is happiest when taking care of people, so Quinn doesn’t push it.

\--

Rachel is clearly tired after watching the fourth show. She’s tired enough that she’s sleepy and sleepy enough that she’s dozing. Quinn isn’t quite ready to leave-- even Rachel’s slightly distracted presence is better than nothing. But she doesn’t want to be the kind of person who overstays her welcome-- she’s certain Rachel wants her to go, but is simply too polite to say anything.

“I should go.”

Rachel smiles at her sleepily. “It’s late,” she murmurs. “And you walked here. Why don’t you spend the night? You can have my bed. I’ll stay here,” she says, patting the couch. She yawns. “It’s comfortable.”

“It’s okay,” Quinn says. “It’s not that far.”

It really isn’t-- just a few blocks to Brittany and Santana’s apartment, and with the two of them in Solvang, she’ll have the place all to herself. She contemplates sleeping in their bed rather than the couch, but she shudders at the thought of what those two do in that bed and quickly concludes the couch is a far more sanitary option.

“Stay,” Rachel murmurs. “We’ll have breakfast tomorrow before you have class and I go to work.”

Quinn hesitates. She’s fairly familiar with Rachel’s routine by now because it’s neatly affixed to her refrigerator via a gold star magnet. Quinn knows Rachel has a six am spin class at 24 Hour Fitness and then a 9am shift manning the phones at Student Health until 4pm, and then a 5pm acting class in Hollywood. She doesn’t want to impose.

“I don’t want to put you out,” Quinn says softly. This is the sort of thing she normally wouldn’t care about-- she wants people to bend over backwards for her, and she likes to see how far people are willing to try to please her. But it’s different with this girl-- Quinn so badly wants to make a good impression on Rachel, and she wants Rachel to believe she’s a better person than she actually is.

“You’re not,” Rachel says. “I’m inviting you. I’d like you to stay. Obviously I am not allowing you to walk home and I would find driving you home at this hour to be very inconvenient, so really, it’s a selfish request.”

Quinn suppresses a smile. “You don’t have to make me breakfast though.”

Rachel looks positively offended. “Of course I do. You’re my guest.”

“Nothing elaborate. I know you don’t have much time.”

“I won’t do anything elaborate,” Rachel murmurs. “I’ll throw a Power Bar at you and send you on your way. How’s that?”

Quinn laughs. “Okay. And I’m not kicking you out of your bed.”

“You’re not kicking me out. I’m voluntarily vacating.” Rachel hugs a throw pillow. “And I’m very comfortable on the sofa-- it’s melded to my body. I sleep here a lot as a matter of fact, and anyway, I don’t want to get up. See how selfish I am being tonight?” She uses her foot to gently nudge Quinn’s thigh. She smiles playfully. “Go away now. You’re on my bed.”

Quinn chuckles and stands up. Impetuously she leans down to muss Rachel’s hair, who squeaks in mock outrage.

“I’m not a puppy!”

“Goodnight,” Quinn murmurs.

“Goodnight,” Rachel says, snuggling deeper into the sofa. “Check the third drawer of my dresser-- you can borrow something to wear to sleep.”

Quinn goes to the bathroom to wash up, and by the time she’s out, the light in the living room is off. She sees Rachel sprawled out on the couch, already asleep, her breaths coming out in soft snores.

Quinn knows the way to Rachel’s bedroom.

She’s seen Rachel’s bedroom a few times, but has never had a really good look at it. It’s extremely neat and decorated in bright, cheerful colors. The wall clock is yellow and Quinn wonders if Rachel uses it to try to motivate herself in the morning. She resists the urge to snoop, because though she’s really curious, she doesn’t want to invade Rachel’s privacy or violate her trust. She only opens the third drawer of the dresser and grabs the first shirt she sees on top, which is a Carmel High School Track Team t-shirt. The back of it has ‘CORCORAN’ on it and Quinn chuckles when she realizes Rachel must have stolen it from her sister. The stack of books on Rachel’s nightstand teeters precariously-- it’s the only spot of chaos in the room.

The bed is neatly made and Quinn feels sort of guilty about mussing it up when she crawls under the sheets. The sheets are crisp and cool and Rachel’s pillow smells of detergent, fabric softener and Rachel’s shampoo and conditioner. She sighs before she shuts off the light and snuggles deeper into Rachel’s sheets.

Quinn plugs in her iPhone into the charger Rachel has on her nightstand and sets her alarm for 4:45 am, because she knows Rachel gets up at 5am to go for a run before her 6am spin class and she wants to get out of Rachel’s hair as soon as she can.

Of course, when it’s actually time to wake up when her alarm goes off, she releases a soft groan and shuts it off.

She’s half asleep when Rachel quietly comes into the room fifteen minutes later.

“Rachel?” she asks blearily when she hears the door creak open.

“Hi,” Rachel whispers. “Go back to sleep. I’m just changing.”

“Okay,” Quinn says sleepily.

It’s 7am when Quinn wakes up on her own. She grabs her phone to look at the time, sees it’s only 7am and closes her eyes to go back to sleep and as soon as her eyes shut, they pop wide open as she realizes she’d intended to get up over two hours ago.

“Damn!” Quinn curses, sitting up. She gets out of bed and opens Rachel’s bedroom door. The brunette is nowhere to be seen.

She makes the bed, but when she does, it looks nowhere near as pristine as how she found it. In her own bed, she wouldn’t care, but this time, she starts over, making sure everything is neat the way Rachel made them. It takes her four tries before she’s satisfied with it. Even then, it’s only acceptable to her-- she’s not really happy with it.

She’s in the bathroom washing her face when Rachel comes home, fresh from the gym. Quinn thinks Rachel is insane-- she runs five miles in the morning, and then runs to the gym before she spends at least an hour there and then runs back to her apartment. It’s a fanatical devotion to regime which bespeaks rigidity which should turn Quinn off, but she simply admires Rachel’s discipline.

“Hi!” Rachel exclaims. “Don’t come too close to me, I smell foul. I’ll shower very quickly and then I’ll make you breakfast!”

“Rachel, you don’t have to. Really, I should just go home and--”

“Quinn Celeste Fabray! Don’t be silly! I have way too much food in the refrigerator-- I bought too much, and it will go to waste if you don’t stay and help me eat it. Do you really want to be responsible for wasting food when poverty is such a world-wide problem? If all the ads I watch on Hulu are correct, one in eight Americans suffer from hunger. And that’s just in America, not even the world. I really feel you should do your part and eat breakfast with me.”

Quinn rolls her eyes-- she’s never met anyone who can talk as much as Rachel. She wonders if Rachel comes off condescending and pedantic to other people-- she really should because Rachel occasionally gets a really didactic tone. But Quinn simply finds Rachel to be too cute, even when she’s going on about world hunger and making a ridiculous connection to her own refrigerator. Quinn also finds it strangely enthralling that Rachel calls her by her full name.

“All right,” Quinn says with a grin. “Thanks.”

\--

Rachel makes her an omelet using egg white substitute but with real bacon, real cheese and some mushrooms and avocados and tomatoes sliced on top. Quinn wonders if Rachel eats like that all the time, and if she does, how she stays so skinny even with all that exercise.

Quinn knows if she ate like that on a daily basis, she would get enormous and if she ever went home like that, she’d never hear the end of it from her mother. She hated the way her mother looked her up-and-down when she went home during Thanksgiving and Winter Break, just looking for those freshman fifteen pounds. So far, she hasn’t gained any weight, but Quinn hates the scrutiny and isn’t looking forward to going home once the first session of summer school ends to her mother’s judgment.

But everything Rachel makes is delicious and so Quinn eats everything anyway.

Rachel drives her home after they finish eating and Quinn sits down on the couch to start studying, but she’s repeatedly distracted because she occasionally catches a whiff of Rachel’s perfume which must have caught onto her clothes when they hugged goodbye. It lingers for hours and for the rest of the day she finds herself lifting her t-shirt and smelling herself to try to recapture Rachel.

She feels like she’s living in bizarro world, because she is just not that kind of girl. She likes Rachel a little too much for her own comfort.

\--

When it’s finals week of the first session of summer school, Quinn is stressed from the pressure of finals, but she also feels a little sad she has nothing to keep her in LA for the rest of the summer. She’s expected home at her mother’s in Texas and she feels a little sad about going because she’s going to miss Rachel.

When Quinn, Santana and Brittany are done with finals, Rachel cooks a celebratory meal.

It’s summer time, so Rachel acquiesces to a barbeque at a local park.

Even if Rachel doesn’t eat meat, she’s clearly good at marinating it. It’s just Santana, Brittany, Quinn, Rachel and Jesse but Rachel makes enough food to feed an army. A few random people stop by and comment on the amount of food and Rachel laughs and makes them a plate of food, but doesn’t invite them to sit down, choosing instead to send them on their way. Quinn is glad for this because she really doesn’t like to be around people unless she chooses to be. Quinn can see people are charmed by Rachel and a few guys come back to give Rachel their phone number and to ask for hers, which she laughs off. One man even grabs Rachel, taking her face in his enormous hands, telling her “I’m in love with you!” and dropping down to one knee to propose marriage. This makes Quinn want to explode and Jesse is on his feet, looking murderous, but Rachel laughs and shoos the guy away and then presses her hand to Jesse’s cheek to calm him down once the crazy guy is gone.

Quinn wishes she could just shout, “go out with me!” but she doesn’t.

Rachel’s brought her iPod and Jesse brought a MP3 speaker improbably shaped like a banana. And so there’s music, food and alcohol surreptitiously brought in Coke containers. Rachel’s grabbed a picnic table under a tree, so there’s shade, too.

Quinn can’t complain.

\--

At one point, Rachel runs off to her car to get Brittany an extra sun visor since Brittany somehow manages to lose hers and Rachel seems like she’s always carrying an extra one of anything.

Brittany and Santana are preoccupied with one another, which leaves Jesse and Quinn alone.

“Quinn, your legs look lovely in those shorts,” he tells her, looking and then pointing under their table to her legs in appreciation.

It should make her feel good, and it kind of does in a very distant way because lately she’s feeling fat. He’s perfectly charming and doesn’t say it in a way that’s insinuates anything, and yet, Quinn feels creeped out. He’s oily, but not in a greasy way. He’s sleazy in a way Quinn can’t put her finger on, and the only person Quinn has ever seen him be genuine with is Rachel. But him telling her she looks “lovely,” even if he only complimented her legs makes her feel like she’s somehow betraying Rachel and she feels completely uncomfortable.

“Thanks,” Quinn says simply, unconsciously crossing her legs together.

Rachel comes back to the table a few minutes later and playfully places the visor on Brittany’s head. Brittany giggles, turns her body 180 degrees, wraps her arms around Rachel’s waist and pulls the smaller girl into her lap. Brittany raspberry-kisses Rachel’s cheek which makes the brunette squeal and laugh. Brittany rocks Rachel in her lap before Rachel gets up. Brittany gently pats Rachel on the butt as Rachel gets up.

Rachel sits down again, taking a seat next to Quinn.

“Rachel, if you lose three pounds, I bet I could put you in my pocket,” Brittany says. “Then I’d take you out and pet you when I’m sad.”

Rachel pauses. “Thank you, Brittany. I think.”

Quinn envies the way Brittany can totally disarm anyone, because she’s technically known Rachel longer, and yet, Brittany is so much more familiar and so much more comfortable with Rachel than she could be. Brittany isn’t the smartest girl in the world. Quinn met Brittany and Santana in high school and Quinn knows for a fact that Santana carried Brittany through high school so they could get to LA together. And now Quinn knows that Santana still helps Brittany as much as possible. Brittany may not have been blessed with a lot of academic savvy, but Quinn is convinced Brittany will go far in life because she is so gifted in so many other ways.

Rachel bumps her arm against Quinn’s and rests her head for just a moment on the space where Quinn’s shoulder blade meets her arm before she reaches for a carrot stick.

Rachel is contentedly chewing on bite of carrot when Jesse addresses her.

“Babe, doesn’t Quinn’s legs look lovely in those shorts?” Jesse asks.

Rachel smiles and swallows her bite of carrot. “Quinn’s legs look lovely in anything. Because they’re simply lovely.” She turns to give Quinn a small smile. “I find myself jealous of them.”

Quinn thinks that’s ridiculous because Rachel’s legs are amazing. Rachel is short, but her body is primarily composed of legs.

“Your legs are beautiful,” Quinn says before she can stop herself.

Rachel gives her a brilliantly wide smile. “Thank you,” she says.

Quinn smiles back and then looks down at her plate. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Jesse raise an eyebrow.

\--

They spend a few hours at the park, but then it’s time to go. They’re getting ready to separate-- Jesse and Rachel in one car, and Brittany, Santana and Quinn in the other and Quinn feels a little glum that the day has come to its conclusion.

Rachel gives Quinn a tight hug. “Have fun back home,” she murmurs. “Will you call me from time to time before you get back?”

Quinn smiles. “Of course.”

“Who’s driving you to the airport?”

Santana raises her hand. “I got stuck with it. Just because she took care of me that one time in high school when I got mono.”

“I thought I took care of you,” Brittany interjects.

Santana makes a face. “You’re the one who gave me mono, Brit.”

Rachel laughs and Quinn wonders if Rachel will offer to take her to the airport, but she doesn’t.


	3. Part 3

Quinn knows her mother loves her, but her mother has no idea how devastating it is when she looks at Quinn up-and-down like she’s checking to see how much weight Quinn gained over the school year before she even smiles and says hello.

She wonders if her mother would even care if she did.

\--

Her sister shows up at the house for dinner the first night she’s home.

It’s surprising because Zoey has never show any interest in her before and never deigned to even call Quinn before she left for college to give a perfunctory “good luck.”

Her mom is a great cook and has made a huge meal for Quinn’s first night back, but when Quinn reaches for another slice of bread, her mother says, “are you sure you really need the extra carbs, Quinnie?” and Quinn burns with embarrassment.

“Let her eat some bread, Mom. Jesus. She’s not even fat anymore,” Zoey says. “If you were so worried about it, why did you make so much food? It’s just the three of us.”

Quinn inwardly cringes because even if Zoey is technically defending her, Quinn still feels awful.

“Watch your mouth in my home, young lady,” their mother warns sharply.

“Well, then leave her alone. It’s a slice of bread, not a deep-fried Twinkie.”

“Zoey, watch your tone.”

Zoey’s lip curls, like she’s going to snap, but she doesn’t say anything.

Quinn just stares down at her plate and hopes the dinner will be over soon. If she eats too quickly, her mother will nag her, but Quinn wants nothing more than to stuff down the rest of her plate and escape to her room. But it’s not like she’d be able to leave the table even if she finishes eating, because her mother will want to hear all about school and while Quinn wants to talk about it, she doesn’t know how her sister will react.

When their father left seven years ago, Quinn was only 12, but Zoey was 20 and studying in Boston. Once their father left, there were monthly battles over child support for Quinn-- somehow her father and his shady accountant found a way to get around it. But he totally pulled funding for Zoey, who couldn’t afford college without him and their mother had no way of paying on her own. She had to leave Boston and move back to Austin, and though she eventually went back to school at UT and got her degree, she’s been bitter ever since. Quinn suspects her sister probably resents her a little for being able to leave Texas and go to LA, so she doesn’t want to rub it in.

By every indicator of success, her sister is on top of the world-- she’s beautiful, has a great job, high-end car, a great house and a sweet, long-term boyfriend. But Zoey’s pretty tied down, too-- she couldn’t leave Austin now even if she wanted to, although Quinn doesn’t really think that’s such a bad thing. Other than her negative memories of her earlier years, Quinn loves her hometown, but Quinn doesn’t want to rub how unencumbered she is in her sister’s face by regaling her family with stories of college.

Just as she suspected, once dinner is over, her mother wants to hear all about school.

Quinn gives her a few details-- classes are interesting, LA is fascinating and she’s making good friends. Quinn tells her mother about Hope, who she’ll be getting an off-campus apartment with once they both return to LA. Her mother met Hope during Move-In Day and always said Hope would always be welcome to visit.

She comments on how lucky Quinn was to have been so well-matched to a roommate. Zoey voices her agreement and reminisces about her freshman roommate when she was in college and what a total cow she was.

“I’m so glad Brittany and Santana are with you,” her mother comments.

Quinn grins, because she’s very glad, too. She knows Brittany and Santana will be back in Austin after the second session of summer school ends, but it’ll be crazy lonely until then. She knows if some of her former classmates from high school knew she was back, she’d get invited to a few parties or whatever, but she wasn’t close to any of them enough that she’d want to do that. Brittany and Santana were really her only high school friends, and even now in college, the only real friends she’s made are Hope and Rachel.

“Quinnie, I hope you aren’t spending all your time with Brittany and Santana. College is the time to make friends-- it’s much harder to make friends once you get older and have a job. It’s not the same being friends with coworkers.”

“I’m fine, Mom,” Quinn says, a little exasperated.

But she can see her mother is a little worried, so Quinn tells her about Rachel, leaving out the part that she is basically consumed by thoughts of the other girl. Her mother is fine with gay people, but Quinn isn’t sure how her mother would handle the idea of her having a crush on another girl, after all, even after her father left, her mother still dragged her to church every Sunday morning.

“She sounds very sweet, Quinn. But why doesn’t she go home to Ohio?”

Quinn’s brows furrow. She honestly doesn’t know, and she never asked. She assumes Rachel just wants to stay away from her family if she can, but Quinn genuinely has no idea because Rachel doesn’t talk much about her family and Quinn is afraid to ask because family is a touchy subject for so many people. Quinn doesn’t want to push.

“I don’t know,” Quinn admits.

“Do you want to invite her to come here for a couple weeks? I don’t like the idea of such a young girl in a big city by herself. Los Angeles is a far cry from a small town in Ohio.”

The idea of Rachel visiting excites her, but Quinn fights to keep her face neutral. “I’ll ask,” she says. “But she plays shows, so I don’t know.”

“Well, asking never hurt, Quinn.”

“I know, Mom.”

“Really, I don’t know what her parents are thinking,” her mother continues. “If it were you, I’d insist you come home.”

Quinn rolls her eyes. “I know, Mom.”

Her mother shoos away her attempts to help clean up-- a first. After her father left and her mother went back to work, Quinn was always expected to do the majority of the housework. But Quinn can also remember those years when Zoey was away at college and would come home during school breaks-- her mother wouldn’t let Zoey lift a finger then, so she guesses she’s just getting the same treatment.

She’s in her room reading To Kill a Mockingbird-- she happened to see it on her bookshelf and remembered she’d bought it for a high school English class (she even found her name and ‘English, period 2’ written on the inside cover), when her sister walks into her room.

“Hey,” Zoey greets.

“Hi,” Quinn replies, dog-earing the page she’s reading, shutting the book and setting it aside.

Zoey closes the door and tilts her head toward Quinn’s computer which is open to Rachel’s MySpace music page and is streaming Rachel singing ‘Sadie’ by Suede. She listens for a few notes. “Who is this?” she asks curiously. “She’s good.”

Quinn blushes. “It’s Rachel.”

“Your little friend that you were talking about?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” Zoey says. “She’s good.”

“Yeah,” Quinn says softly. “What’s up?”

Her sister must have a reason for talking to her, because Zoey has never talked to her without a purpose.

Zoey sits on the bed. “Dad’s back in town.”

Quinn swallows hard. “He is? Did you talk to him?”

“No.” Zoey pauses. “But I know where he lives. Do you want to take a little trip after mom goes to sleep?”

“I don’t want to talk to him,” Quinn says quickly. She feels twelve years old and unwanted again. Her father walked away without ever looking back. She can’t face him-- she’s too afraid she’ll see the reasons why he left written on his face, and if the reason is her, she’s not sure she can handle that. She’s certain she can’t handle that.

“We don’t have to talk to him. I just want to drive by his house. I followed him there last week, but I don’t want to go alone.”

Quinn swallows hard. “Okay.”

Her sister leaves and Quinn just sits on her bed. The next song comes up on Rachel’s MySpace page and Quinn listens to Rachel sing ‘Maybe This Time’ and Quinn thinks to herself she could be ‘this time’ for Rachel if Rachel would let her.

\--

Zoey leaves the house because staying too long will cause suspicion. Her sister is just so remote, and Quinn wonders if she’ll ever figure Zoey out.

Quinn texts Zoey once she knows their mother is asleep and Zoey comes back and picks her up. They drive in silence.

\--

The house is big, too big for a single man, but her sister has done her research and says he’s still single with no other kids. There’s a sports car parked in front of the house that only sits two people. Quinn wonders why her father hasn’t parked it in the garage, because he was always fanatical about his cars and this particular car looks really expensive. But her sister explains her father has only just moved back recently and is still working on the house, so the garage is currently occupied.

“Let’s fuck it up,” her sister says.

Quinn wants to point out that her sister is too old to be engaging in this kind of mayhem, but it’s just nice to be acknowledged by Zoey that Quinn agrees without protest.

“Okay. What do you want to do?”

“I want to get a baseball bat and bust the shit out of it, but we can’t do that. It’ll make too much noise. Let’s go to the grocery store. We’ll get some mustard, mayonnaise, bacon, ham, eggs. bread and shaving cream and turn his car into the world’s grossest breakfast sandwich.”

Quinn snorts a little. “Okay.”

\--

They buy their supplies and come back.

Quinn’s a little afraid at first, so she watches her sister vandalize their father’s car, and keeps an eye out for any passing cars. They only have another fifteen minutes before the neighborhood patrol guy comes driving down again. But she sees how much fun Zoey seems to be having and the sheer glee she’s taking in covering their father’s car with condiments, food and shaving cream and she joins in.

She throws herself into the destruction and thinks about how her father is driving a car that probably costs more than her mother’s annual income and how her father never paid a dollar of child support. She thinks about what he did to Zoey. She thinks about how hard her mother works and sacrifices because he is such an asshole. She thinks about all the nights she cried after he abandoned them, thinking that if she’d only been a little prettier or better or more something he would have stayed.

She stops feeling guilty about fucking up his car. He can afford to have it cleaned, after all.

By the time they’re done, the windshield is covered in mayonnaise and raw eggs, the rear window in mustard, the other windows and side mirrors in shaving cream and the body of the car in bacon and ham. Slices of bread are placed around the car.

It looks terrible and they hold in their giggles until they get in her sister’s car, where they burst into laughter and drive away.

Once they’ve calmed down, they’re silent until they’re almost home.

“I really hate him,” Zoey says quietly.

“I know,” Quinn replies softly.

“He’s such a dick.”

“Yeah.”

It’s quiet for a few minutes until Zoey speaks again.

“You don’t know anything about this, got it? If we get caught, I’ll take responsibility. You weren’t here tonight, understand? You were in your room, reading.”

“Okay,” Quinn says quietly.

Zoey drops her off at home. Zoey gives her an awkward pat on the shoulder before Quinn gets out of the car and then Zoey takes off, speeding a little too fast for their residential neighborhood.

\--

The following morning, the enormity of what they did hits Quinn and she worries the police are going to arrest her for vandalism-- she’s legally an adult, after all. She has visions of waking up to the police surrounding her bed, throwing her face-down to the floor, handcuffing her and calling her ‘maggot’ (as in ‘don’t move, maggot!’)

But nothing happens.

The day after that, she’s still anxious, but slightly less so.

She’s still a little antsy so she gives Rachel a call.

“Friend!” Rachel greets.

Quinn laughs at how excited Rachel sounds to hear from her. “Hi, Rachel.”

“I was just thinking about you! Literally, just now! Isn’t that eerie?”

“Not really,” Quinn says dryly. “I think that’s more just coincidental.”

“I simply do not want to believe life is that mundane. I maintain that this was eerie. Uncanny, really.”

Quinn laughs. “You’re so weird.”

“Not any weirder than you, my friend.”

“No way. You’re a weirdo.”

“I think you’re probably a secret weirdo.”

“Hmph,” Quinn says. “I was thinking about you, too.”

“You were? Why?”

“I was re-reading To Kill a Mockingbird-- I had a copy in my room. It even had “Quinn Fabray, period 2 English’ written on the inside cover.”

Rachel laughs. “Which edition do you have?”

Quinn rolls her eyes. Of course Rachel would be fixated on that.

“You already have it-- it’s the 50th anniversary one.”

“Oh,” Rachel says. “Yes, I do have it.” She laughs and Quinn can picture her smiling. “Is it underlined?”

Quinn chuckles. “Yes, it is.”

“I’d be interested to see what you found interesting. You should bring it with you when you come back.”

Quinn rolls her eyes. “Are you trying to steal my copy?” she asks suspiciously.

“No!” Rachel bursts out, giggling.

Quinn laughs. “Why do you like it so much?” Quinn asks curiously.

“It’s a timeless classic,” Rachel replies breezily.

Quinn rolls her eyes. “No, seriously.”

“I like books where rabid dogs get shot by a character who will later be depicted by Gregory Peck.”

Quinn chortles. “Seriously!”

Rachel chuckles softly. “I don’t know,” she admits. “I read it for the first time when I was nine. It really struck a chord with me and every time I’ve gone back to it, I find something new. I liked that the children in it could be capable of so much compassion. I was convinced at the time all children were budding sociopaths except for myself and Audrey.” She laughs softly. “Problems with schoolmates,” she explains vaguely before Quinn can ask. “And now I just love it.” She pauses. “What’s your favorite book?”

“You’ll think it’s stupid,” Quinn says glumly. She can’t even believe she’s being honest about it. If anyone else asked her what her favorite book is, she would have responded Catcher in the Rye. It’s a safe choice, as emo as Holden Caufield is.

“I won’t think it’s stupid,” Rachel says softly. “What is it?” she wheedles gently.

Quinn sighs. “Matilda.”

Rachel pauses. “Which one? The rather grim one by Mary Shelley or the grim, but in a different way one by Roald Dahl? I think both are very good.”

Quinn chuckles. “The one by Roald Dahl. I didn’t even know Mary Shelley wrote one.”

“Why would I think it’s stupid? It’s a wonderful book. I related a lot to Matilda.”

“I did, too,” Quinn confessed quietly.

Rachel pauses, and it’s silent for a few seconds before she speaks again. “Quinn. Sweetheart, are you okay over there?” she asks tenderly. “If you need a place to stay, you can always come back to school and stay with me. Sometimes it gets lonely living alone, you know.”

“It’s okay,” Quinn replies. “I just…” she trails off.

“Family can be complicated,” Rachel murmurs. “I know. But they should be good to you. Are your mom and your sister being good to you?”

“Don’t worry, Rachel,” Quinn says quietly. “Everything’s fine.”

“All right,” Rachel accepts. “But the invitation still stands. If you need a place to stay, I have a warm bed, a well-stocked refrigerator and a bathroom I just spent two hours cleaning.”

Quinn laughs. “Thanks,” she says softly. “But I’m okay.” She hesitates for a few seconds. “Why don’t you ever go home on breaks?” Quinn asks.

Rachel is silent for a long moment and Quinn wonders if maybe she’s crossed a line she shouldn’t cross.

“Family can be very complicated,” Rachel replies with a gentle laugh.

Quinn laughs as well. “Yeah.” She clears her throat. “If you’re lonely out there, do you want to come here? My mom says you can stay with us and Brit and San are going to be here once second session finishes.”

“Thank you, that’s very sweet. But I really can’t,” Rachel says. “I have shows for the rest of the summer and I’ve already been booked. I don’t want to earn a reputation for being unreliable.”

Quinn is disappointed, but she gets it. “Okay,” she accepts.

“It was so sweet of you to offer though, Quinn. Thank you.”

“Any time,” Quinn says.

“Quinn,” Rachel murmurs. “Really. What’s going on over there? You sound lonely, friend.”

“I don’t know, it’s nothing,” Quinn says, clearly frustrated with herself. “I…I found out my dad is back in town-- I haven’t seen him since I was twelve.”

“Did you speak with him?”

“No,” Quinn says, though she flushes a little when she thinks about what she and Zoey did to his car.

“Do you want to?”

“Not really,” Quinn replies softly.

“But?” Rachel presses gently.

Quinn releases a soft snort. It’s ridiculous how well this girl can read her. Quinn is quiet for a while and Rachel seems content with the silence, giving Quinn time to ruminate.

“I’d just like to know how he could do that,” Quinn answers finally. “Everything was fine. Things weren’t great or anything, but they were fine. And then one day, he left and stuck my mom with all these bills when he knew she hadn’t worked since she got married to him. He never paid alimony, never paid child support and my sister was in college at BU and she had to drop out because he wouldn’t pay for college. He never visited, never called or sent a card or anything. I just want to know how he could do that.”

“I don’t know,” Rachel murmurs. “I can’t imagine anyone wanting to walk away from you.”

Quinn snorts bitterly. “You didn’t know me when I was twelve,” she says. “If it were just me, I’m surprised he even stuck around that long. I just don’t get why he walked away from my mom and my sister.”

“I can’t imagine anything being wrong with you,” Rachel says. “I know you mentioned you went through an awkward stage, but--”

“Rachel, I was ugly,” Quinn interrupts, her voice more agitated than she wants it to be.

“I won’t accept that,” Rachel replies. “You were a child and children do go through awkward stages. I went through one. If we’re being quite frank, I’m still going through my awkward stage.”

Quinn laughs a little. “Shut up, you are not.”

Rachel chuckles. “Regardless of your appearance as child, Quinn, you’re so beautiful now. And really, appearance is really not that important.”

“First of all,” Quinn says, her voice becoming hostile again, and she knows she’s taking it out on Rachel, but she’s just so irate. “You didn’t know me back then. No one talked to me. I had no friends. No matter how nice I was to people, no one would give me the time of day. Don’t tell me looks aren’t important, Rachel! My parents were ashamed of me.”

“I didn’t say they weren’t important,” Rachel says calmly. “I said it really wasn’t that important. There is a difference. You… you are very beautiful,” Rachel says with a soft sigh. “That fact is undeniable. But you’re so sweet--”

“There’s not many people who would think that about me,” Quinn interjects. And it’s true. She knows she has a bitchy, ice-queen image, but she has no idea how to change it or even if she wants to. Sometimes, more than anything else, she wants to be left alone, and people tend to do that when they assume she’s a bitch.

“Well, you’ve always been so sweet to me,” Rachel counters. “Of course appearance matters, and you’re very lucky in that you are so beautiful. But there’s more to you than that and I know for myself, I wouldn’t want to be friends with you if you were just a pretty face. But you’re so much more than that-- just like I’ve always thought from the moment I met you as I slunk out of Finn Hudson and Noah Puckerman’s dorm room in a cloud of shame.”

Quinn laughs. “You’re such a nerd.”

“I am,” Rachel concedes and Quinn can hear the smile in her voice. “Quinn, sweetheart,” she says softly. “You’re wonderful and I’m terribly sorry your early experiences were less than ideal. One day, remind me to tell you about a McKinley High School special called the Slushie Shower. I was a frequent recipient. So I understand what it’s like to be less than popular and feel less than attractive. I still believe we should start an Ugly Ducklings club together, just you and I.”

Quinn laughs softly. “Sure.”

“Those people have no idea what they were missing and if they knew you now, they’d sorely regret the opportunity they lost befriending you when they had the chance. And as for your father…” Rachel trails off. “I can’t say I know what it’s like to be left like that, but again, I have to say, the loss is his. I plan on holding onto you for a very long time, friend. Amongst my multitude of skills, including but not limited to: perfect pitch, verbal ability and cooking, is the ability to recognize a good thing when I have it.”

Quinn laughs at Rachel’s playful, but factual arrogance. But she wipes at her eyes because she’s crying. She struggles to keep her voice even and she wonders why she’s in such a weepy mood.

“Thanks,” Quinn says, her voice still wavering a little. She wants to change the subject because the scrutiny she feels focused on her is just too intense and she’s having a hard time handling it. “What’s a Slushie Shower?”

Rachel chuckles. “It’s when you are walking down the halls of McKinley High School perfectly content with yourself and your place in the world and you receive an extra large cup of Slushie frequently in an alarming shade of red, purple or blue from the school cafeteria right to your face.”

Quinn gasps “That happened to you?”

“At least a few times a week,” Rachel acknowledges. “I was never very popular-- my admittedly hyper verbosity and tendency towards obsessive compulsiveness about a variety of things put people off. But I can’t be anyone other than myself, and now the very things people used to loathe about me and hurl beverages at me for are things that people in college like about me. Perhaps I’m not particularly popular even now, but I’m content.”

Guilt seeps into Quinn’s stomach because she knows if she’d gone to Rachel’s high school, it’s likely she would have followed the herd and hurled Slushies at Rachel, too. By then she was so relieved to be popular and so terrified of going back to being friendless and ignored, she would have done anything to maintain her popularity.

“They have no idea what they were missing,” Quinn says softly.

Rachel laughs gently. “Too right. Those people are just a footnote in my history, Quinn. They helped shape who I am only in the sense I became more resilient. But they did nothing else for me. Those people who used to ignore you and your father? They can become footnotes in your history, too, because I know that whatever you choose to do, you will be great at it. I am a little psychic, you know.”

Quinn laughs. “Yeah? Well, why don’t you tell me what I’m going to be when I grow up.” she teases.

Rachel chuckles. “You’ll be my friend. That’s all I can tell you. My crystal ball’s a little cloudy.”

“Nerd,” Quinn murmurs good-naturedly.

They chat for a few minutes and then Quinn reluctantly lets Rachel go.

\--

She’s lonely, but she talks to Rachel every couple days.

It starts out with short conversations and then turns into hours-long talks well into the wee hours of the morning. If pressed, Quinn doubts she could even say what they talk about, but they never seem to run out of things to say to one another.

Eventually Santana and Brittany come home to Austin after the second summer school session finishes and she’s less lonely, but she still misses Rachel.

Quinn, Santana and Brittany have a couple weeks together to traipse through their old stomping grounds before they have to go back to school and Quinn has to admit when she has her friends with her, it’s nice to be home.

Her sister doesn’t speak to her again for the rest of the summer.

\--

Quinn gets back to LA and Hope is already back.

They greet one another happily.

Hope lost weight over the summer, not that she needed to lose any. She’s tan and her hair has gotten slightly lighter from sun exposure. She looks stunning.

They start their apartment search immediately and after nearly two weeks of crashing at Brittany and Santana’s, they find a decent enough apartment and sign a lease.

It’s hell moving in, but they have a few days before the first day of classes of the Fall Quarter start, so it’s okay

Quinn wants to call Rachel and ask Rachel to help with the move, just to have an excuse to see her-- she knows Rachel would agree to it, but she doesn’t want to let Hope know how close they’ve become over the summer.  
\--

They’re celebrating the move with a housewarming party.

It’s Saturday when she calls Rachel to invite her to the party that evening, but Rachel can’t make it.

“I’m helping my parents move A into the dorms,” Rachel explains. “Or else of course I would be there.”

Quinn is disappointed Rachel can’t come, but she feels terrible when she sees how disappointed Hope is, and Quinn realizes the time apart did nothing to diminish Hope’s crush on Rachel.

\--

Rachel drops by the apartment on the first day of classes, bearing gifts.

Quinn and Hope are both home and Rachel greets and hugs Hope first, which makes Quinn’s heart sink a little, though she tells herself they’ve known each other longer and it’s been longer since they’ve seen each other. Quinn knows for a fact Rachel and Hope never talked over the summer.

Rachel runs her hand through Hope’s hair. “Hope! You look gorgeous.” Rachel’s cheeks turn pink. “Not that you weren’t gorgeous before, you must know you were beautiful-- you’re in possession of a mirror. Not that you would need a mirror as any reflective surface would suffice. But truly-- you look beautiful,” Rachel babbles.

White hot jealousy courses through Quinn’s veins and unreasonably wants to punch them both out.

Hope blushes. “Thanks, Rachel. You…you got even more beautiful, too. Did you dye your hair? It looks a little darker.”

Rachel grins. “It is, yes. It’s my fall look. Thank you for noticing,” she chuckles. She beams at Quinn. “Hi, friend,” she greets, grabbing the blonde into a tight hug. “How are you, gorgeous?”

“I’m good,” Quinn says softly. “You? How was taking Audrey to school?”

Rachel groans. “I’ll tell you about it later. I don’t want to get into it. But I’m fine. Super. Really.”

Quinn can tell from Rachel’s expression that she’s not super, but she lets it go.

“I have presents for you guys!” Rachel says. “Let’s open them!”

\--

Rachel has brought over a housewarming gift which turns out to be a framed picture of Hope and Quinn at one of the dinners at Rachel’s apartment. But she’s also brought separate gifts for each of them.

Hope’s gift is a mint green cardigan sweater, which is exactly the sort of thing Hope would wear and goes with Hope’s eyes.

“I thought you would wear it well,” Rachel murmurs. “I saw it last week and immediately thought of you. Think of it as a welcome home gift.”

Hope’s eyes are shiny. “Thank you,” she says, hugging Rachel.

Quinn opens her present and blinks when she sees a white t-shirt. She pulls it out and sees two silkscreened ducks with brown hair, exaggeratedly large bills and glasses. Underneath the ducks are the words ‘The Ugly Ducklings.’

Rachel smiles. “Can you believe it? I found it last week, too, and had to buy it. I have one as well. Now we can have our club. But obviously you could only wear it ironically.”

Quinn chuckles. “Thank you,” she says quietly.

\--

They order a vegetarian pizza for dinner after Rachel agrees to deviate from her vegan diet to eat cheese. They eat dinner and chat for a bit, but then Rachel excuses herself, claiming she needs to get a head start on her classes.

“You are such a nerd,” Quinn tells her.

Rachel just smiles, waves and leaves.

Once Rachel is gone, Hope turns to her.

“What’s that about?” she asks, pointing to the t-shirt Rachel gave Quinn.

“It’s nothing,” Quinn says. “It’s just a joke we made about the ugly duckling story, that we both liked it and she said we should start a club,” Quinn lies.

She likes Hope, but her former life as the ugly duckling of the world is not one she wants to revisit, and definitely not one she wants to make well-known.

It’s the first time Hope ever looks at her with suspicion, but her roommate seems to accept it.

“Oh, okay,” Hope says.


	4. Part 4

The weekly dinners at Rachel’s apartment resume and Quinn is glad to just be around Rachel, but she just wishes she had some time alone with her, too.  
  
Then one night, in early November, it’s just the two of them.  
  
Jesse has a date, Brittany and Santana have a study group and Hope has a _really_ pressing assignment she needs to complete ‘or _else_.’ Quinn is not really sure what the ‘or else’ means, but given how intense Hope seems about it, she figures it’s the fate of the world or at least, some future nerdy gamer’s world.  
  
They cook together-- Quinn helps chop vegetables. It’s all she can really do, and Rachel does the heavy lifting of the cooking.  
  
They eat, they talk and they clean up together. They watch a few primetime TV shows before switching to cable and then the evening news before Rachel finally slips in a DVD.  
  
They talk late until the night.  
  
It’s 2am by the time they realize how late it is.  
  
“I should go,” Quinn sighs. “It’s late.”  
  
“I don’t want you to go home yet,” Rachel murmurs softly.  
  
Quinn swallows hard. “Okay.”  
  
Rachel leans into her and rests her head on Quinn’s shoulder.  
  
“What did you want to be when you were little?”  
  
“Skinny. Pretty,” Quinn answers without thinking. Once she says it, however, she feels so stupid.  
  
Rachel is silent as she absorbs that. “Typically, I find myself being strangely literal. I think it may possibly be symptomatic of a borderline autism spectrum disorder.”  
  
Quinn laughs. “You’re so not autistic. You’re far too manipulative.”  
  
Rachel grins. “But I think you interpreted my query too literally as I was asking about vocation.” She pauses. “But you’re skinny. And you’re beautiful. You may possibly be the most genetically blessed, most perfect girl I’ve ever known. Just in case you ever had any doubt.”  
  
“Hope’s prettier.”  
  
“Hope is beautiful,” Rachel agrees. “Lovely. But beauty is subjective and I think _you_ are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known.”  
  
Quinn swallows the lump in her throat. “You don’t have to say that.”  
  
“No,” Rachel agrees. “It’s not compulsory. No one is forcing me to say it. But I do feel that way.”  
  
Quinn blinks back tears. “What did you want to be when you were little?”  
  
“Are you asking about vocation or…”  
  
Quinn laughs. “Vocation.”  
  
“A star,” Rachel says without hesitation. “I always wanted it. Of course, now, that vision is much more specific.”  
  
Quinn bites her lower lip. “Did you always want it? Or was it something your parents forced you into?”  
  
Rachel stiffens at the question, but then relaxes after a moment. “I can’t remember ever wanting anything else. As long as I can remember, I’ve always loved singing, I’ve always loved acting. A career that would enable me to do that is what I want more than anything, it’s what I’ve worked for, and the fact that my fathers and my mother also wanted the same thing for me seems coincidental. They could be somewhat… insistent about certain things, yes, and I’ve sometimes disagreed with what they’ve wanted me to do, or how they wanted me to do something, but I can make up my own mind. I will admit sometimes I went along with something my parents wanted, even when I didn’t want it. But I wouldn’t let my parents shepherd me into an entire life I don’t want. ”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“They have different interpretations of what I want, of course, as I’ve told you before. My dads want me to be famous. I think that’s all they really care about. My mom wants me to be successful. I want…” Rachel bites her lower lip as she ponders it. “I want to be good. I want to be successful and respected for being good.”  
  
“You _are_ good,” Quinn assures. “You have the most amazing voice I’ve ever heard.”  
  
Rachel chuckles. “It’s not always enough. I’m not exactly what one would call a conventional beauty. I have the kind of face one needs to become…accustomed to,” she says wryly.  
  
“I think you’re beautiful,” Quinn whispers.  
  
Rachel’s quiet. “You’re very sweet, do you know this?”  
  
“You’re beautiful,” Quinn repeats.  
  
Rachel releases a soft sigh. “What do you want to be when you grow up now? Vocation,” she adds.  
  
“Rachel,” Quinn says, reaching for the brunette’s hand. “You’re beautiful.”  
  
Rachel swallows hard. “The age old question. Coke or Pepsi?”  
  
“You’re beautiful,” Quinn murmurs thickly.  
  
“Pringles or Ruffles?”  
  
“You’re beautiful,” Quinn whispers.  
  
“Pulp or no pulp? I loathe pulp. But I like to steal it when Audrey is around because then she calls me a pulprit, which is a hybrid of pulp and culprit. I enjoy portmanteaus very much.”  
  
“You’re beautiful, Rachel.”  
  
“Crunchy or smooth peanut butter?”  
  
“You’re beautiful,” Quinn repeats softly.  
  
Rachel sighs. She’s quiet for a long moment and Quinn wonders if she’s going to say anything at all. But then she finally speaks.  
  
“Quinn Fabray, you are just too sweet,” Rachel whispers.  
  
\--  
  
Quinn wakes up the next morning and she’s still on Rachel’s couch. It’s five am and Rachel wakes up as well.  
  
“Hey,” Rachel greets. “I’m going to go for my run. Do you want to come with me? I have clothes you can borrow.”  
  
“Okay,” Quinn says softly.  
  
\--  
  
Quinn gets home by 8am, just as Hope is leaving for her 9am class.  
  
“Quinn! Where were you? I was so worried! I wanted to call the police, but I thought it would be overkill. Why didn’t you answer your phone? Are you okay?”  
  
Quinn swallows hard. “Sorry,” she apologizes. “I fell asleep.”  
  
Hope grins. “You’re dating someone! Where did you go after dinner at Rachel’s?”  
  
“Just a friend’s,” Quinn says. She’s deliberately misleading Hope, but she does not want to deal with this right now. “And I really fell asleep.”  
  
“Yeah, right,” Hope teases. “I have to go, you know what a battle it is to park on campus.” She gives Quinn a quick kiss on the cheek. “See you later, okay? You have to tell me all about it!”  
  
Hope brings it up later that night, but Quinn dodges the subject.  
\--  
  
Thanksgiving weekend, Hope is forced to go home to Alabama. Jesse goes home to Ohio. Brittany and Santana go home to Austin, because the Pierce and Lopez family have had a joint Thanksgiving since the girls were in primary school and Audrey goes to Thanksgiving dinner at her new boyfriend’s family’s house in Santa Barbara, rather than going back to Lima. Quinn originally intended to go home, but she stays in LA and apologizes to her mother when she finds out Rachel is staying in LA, alone.  
  
Rather than either of them cooking, they spend Thanksgiving getting dim sum in Chinatown.  
  
It’s the least complicated Thanksgiving that Quinn can ever remember celebrating, and when Quinn expresses the thought out loud, Rachel laughs and says “me too.”  
  
\--  
  
They’re so full from dinner, they decide to take a walk before getting back into Quinn’s car.  
  
It’s chilly for Southern California, and so they huddle close together. Their arms intertwine. Quinn has her hair up in a bun, but Rachel’s hair is long and loose and they stand so close together that the wind makes Rachel’s hair whip against Quinn’s face and neck. Quinn doesn’t mind.  
  
A particularly brutal gust of wind kicks up Rachel’s skirt and the brunette snaps it down, looking very alarmed. She gives Quinn a bashful, embarrassed smile.  
  
The wind calms down into a breeze and Rachel turns to Quinn, presses even closer and laughs into Quinn’s neck. It feels very, very intimate. More intimate than sex, which Quinn’s only had a handful of times-- each time a little regrettable.  
\--  
  
Quinn drives Rachel home and when Rachel invites her inside, Quinn happily agrees.  
  
They’re lying on the couch watching one of the Charlie Brown Thanksgiving specials when Rachel shuts the TV off and turns to her.  
  
“Quinn,” Rachel murmurs. “I like you. A lot. And I don’t believe in playing games. Life is too short to get mired in such silly things. I’d really like to take you out on a date and see what happens. Would you be interested? And please realize despite the fact I am coming on very strongly, I do not want you to feel obligated to say yes. Like I said, I don’t play games and if you’re not interested, I’d like to get that out of the way now so we can stay friends. There is no pressure.”  
  
Quinn swallows hard. This is everything she wants to hear-- Rachel’s unequivocal interest. But it also hurts, because Hope is a good friend, who has always been kind to her. She doesn’t want to hurt Hope, but at the same time, is friendship really worth sacrificing her own happiness?  
  
She decides it isn’t and she’ll deal with it later.  
  
“I’d really like to go out with you,” Quinn says softly.  
  
Rachel waits for a moment, like she’s waiting for a ‘but.’  
  
Quinn speaks no further and Rachel’s face is transformed by her broad smile.  
  
“Thank God,” Rachel says shakily. “I’ve actually never been so forward. It’s just that it was building up for so long and I needed to do something about it. I really wanted to be brave, for once.”  
  
Quinn smiles, suddenly emboldened because Rachel has made her interest known. “I should reward you for your bravery,” she says softly, cupping Rachel’s chin and leaning in.  
  
Their lips meet and it’s everything Quinn wants and more. She’s never kissed another girl before, but she’s thought a lot about it even before she’s met Rachel and she’s so glad Rachel is the first.  
  
Rachel grins when they pull apart. “Now you’re done for, right?” she murmurs. “I’m told I’m a great kisser. Dizzying, in fact. If you didn’t like me before, surely you must like me now.”  
  
Rachel is, in fact, a great kisser. And Quinn has to admit, she is a little dizzy. But she flicks Rachel’s shoulder twice.  
  
“Ow! Stop flicking me!” Rachel exclaims with a laugh, rubbing her shoulder.  
  
“You’re getting cocky.”  
  
Rachel grins sheepishly. “Sorry.”  
  
“But it‘s kind of true,” Quinn concedes.  
  
Rachel beams and punches the air victoriously. “Ha!” She smiles widely and rests her head on Quinn’s shoulder. “I’m dizzy, too.”  
  
Quinn strokes Rachel’s hair. “Good,” she says.  
  
Rachel grabs her iPhone and holds it up. “Smile for the camera, Quinn. This occasion needs to be commemorated.”  
  
“You’re one of those people who celebrates one week anniversaries, aren’t you?” Quinn asks.  
  
Rachel shrugs sheepishly.  
  
“Oh God,” Quinn bemoans, but she actually okay with it, because she feels like celebrating, too. Quinn grabs her phone from Rachel’s coffee table. “Smile for me,” she says. She’s never had a reason to take Rachel’s picture until now, but she’s always wanted to, and she’s glad she finally has the opportunity.  
  
Rachel blows her a kiss.  
\--  
  
Quinn spends the night at Rachel’s, but she takes the bed and Rachel takes the couch. The arrangement suits Quinn fine, because even though she’s not a stranger to sex and has had a one-night stand with Noah Puckerman, she’s not very experienced. Despite the fact she wants to kiss Rachel senseless, she’s also veering towards being chaste, just to be safe.  
  
Quinn’s phone buzzes to announce a late-night text from Hope.  
  
‘Happy Thanksgiving, roomie! I hope you’re having a great time.’  
  
Quinn gulps.  
  
Hope.  
  
“Fuck,” Quinn says softly.  
  
She can _not_ walk away from Rachel. There could be something very real there and she doesn’t believe friendship is enough to walk away from that. Normally, she’s the type of person who subscribes to “bros before hoes/chicks before dicks,” but Rachel is neither a ho nor a dick. And even if Rachel were a ho or a dick, Quinn’s always felt that philosophy was only applicable to her friends, not her.  
  
But Quinn doesn’t want to lose Hope as a friend either.  
  
She thinks about telling Rachel that Hope has a crush on her, but the possibility Rachel may prefer Hope over her-- Hope is just _so_ beautiful, makes her anxious. She cannot lose Rachel to Hope. Not now. Not after all this. She won’t lose that way.  
  
She’s not quite sure what she needs to do, though she knows she needs to do something if she’s going to date Rachel and keep Hope as a friend. Sometimes, she has this inner fattie that still wants the most cake, even when she knows she’ll end up regretting being so selfish.  
\--  
  
She and Rachel spend all of Thanksgiving weekend together.  
  
Quinn’s mother worries and frets and when Quinn insists she’s _fine_ , because she’s spending it with Rachel, her mother insists on speaking to Rachel herself.  
  
Quinn is _appalled_ but Rachel gently takes the phone and proceeds to charm Judy Fabray in under three minutes.  
  
“Your mother wants to talk to you,” Rachel says, handing Quinn her cell phone back.  
  
Quinn is still staring in disbelief when she takes the phone.  
  
“Hi Mom.”  
  
“She sounds very sweet, sweetheart,” her mother says, her voice thick with some emotion that Quinn can’t decipher.  
  
“She is, Mom. She’s great,” Quinn says quietly.  
  
“If she doesn’t go home for Christmas break, bring her with you,” her mother says. “I’d like to meet your…friend.”  
  
“We’ll see, Mom,” Quinn hedges.  
  
“Enjoy your holiday, Quinnie. I missed you, but I’m glad you met someone you care so deeply about,” her mom says softly. “She’s more than a friend, isn’t she, Quinn?”  
  
Quinn swallows hard. “Mom, wait. I--”  
  
“Your father was the Puritan, not me,” her mother tells her gently. “You know this, don’t you?”  
  
“I guess,” Quinn whispers.  
  
“I just want you to be happy, Quinnie. And you’ve been unhappy for so long…you…you…” her mother falters for a moment. “You seem happy.”  
  
Quinn swallows with difficulty. “Yes,” she whispers starkly.  
  
“It’s all right, Quinn. It…it will take me time to get used to, I won’t mislead you. But it _is_ all right I will get used to it and I _am_ fine with it..”  
  
“Okay,” Quinn says softly.  
  
“I really missed you, Quinnie. I’ll see you at Christmas.”  
  
“I missed you, too, Mom,” Quinn replies quietly.  
  
\--  
  
By Sunday night, Quinn comes down with a serious case of the Sunday blues as she leaves Rachel’s apartment because now she has to face reality.  
  
“Don’t be so sad,” Rachel chides gently. “We go to the same school. We can meet each other for lunch tomorrow. And you’ll come to my show tomorrow night, won’t you?”  
  
“Absolutely,” Quinn promises.  
  
“Then stop looking so sad,” Rachel implores. She tilts her head to the right. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”  
  
Quinn forces a bright smile. “I’m fine. It’s the Sunday Blues, that’s all. I just…don’t really want to go back to school tomorrow.”  
  
Rachel squeezes her hand. “I know the feeling.”  
  
Rachel steps up on tiptoe and kisses Quinn’s lips. Quinn’s hands grip Rachel’s waist for balance and they kiss languidly for a few minutes until Quinn pulls back.  
  
“I should go,” she says quietly.  
  
Rachel gently pats her butt. “Meet me for lunch tomorrow?”  
  
Quinn beams. “Sure.”  
  
\--  
  
Hope is already home when Quinn gets back to the apartment. Hope relates the story of her truly awful Thanksgiving and then they both go to their rooms because Hope clearly just wants to get washed up and into bed. When Quinn wakes up the next morning, Hope’s already gone to class.  
  
\--  
  
Quinn thought she could get away with just going to Rachel’s show on her own, but she forgot about how Hope is so enamored with Rachel and finally discovered Rachel’s MySpace page.  
  
Quinn is watching truly terrible daytime TV when Hope comes home at the end of classes.  
  
“Rachel has a show tonight! It was on her MySpace page. We have to go!”  
  
Quinn forces a smile. “Sure.”  
  
\--  
  
Rachel plays another amazing set, and as usual, once Rachel finishes, she has to pack up all her equipment, which always takes a while. Plus, she always stops to talk to people who speak to her.  
  
“She’s so talented,” Hope says, a little in awe. Her eyes are shiny and Quinn realizes Hope’s crush on Rachel has reached _painful_ proportions. It makes sense-- Rachel isn’t just some girl in a music theory class anymore, she’s someone Hope gets to spend a lot of time with. Prolonged exposure doesn’t seem to cure anyone of romantic feelings for Rachel-- it just seems to make them grow.  
  
“I guess,” Quinn says, forcing herself to be noncommittal. “But I really think you should just get over it.”  
  
“I think I’ll ask her out,” Hope says. “We’re friends now, but we’re not so close that it would be weird. I think it’s the perfect time, actually.”  
  
“I really don’t think so,” Quinn says. “You should just forget about her. “I really don’t see what you find so appealing about her, to be honest. She’s very sweet and she’s a good friend, but…” Quinn swallows hard. “She’s really not even that pretty. I really don’t find her that attractive and I don’t think I could be attracted to her. I can’t believe you’ve had a crush on her for so long.”  
  
It’s _killing_ Quinn to say it because it’s just so untrue. She thinks Rachel is beautiful, but Quinn desperately wants to make Hope forget Rachel and she would do anything to undermine Hope’s crush on Rachel because she doesn’t want to be the girl who kisses a person her friend likes first. She wants Rachel to be irredeemably flawed in Hope’s eyes, so Hope will just move on and leave Rachel for herself.  
  
Hope is outraged. “She’s _beautiful_!”  
  
Rachel is suddenly there, taking a seat. She smiles warmly at Hope. “Hi guys,” she greets, her voice friendly. “Thank you for coming. I hope you guys thought I was okay.”  
  
“You were _great_!” Hope gushes. “Just like always.”  
  
“Thank you!” Rachel says, with a smile.  
  
“You were great,” Quinn says sincerely, but dread coils around her stomach because Rachel sat down way too soon and she is certain Rachel heard at least part of what she said, if not the whole thing.  
  
Rachel’s face is impassive when she turns to look at Quinn. “Thank you, Quinn,” she says. She smiles, but it’s not very warm.  
  
Quinn’s stomach plummets.  
  
Rachel doesn’t look or speak to her the rest of the night-- she speaks to Hope as warmly and sweetly as ever and speaks to every person who comes by their table to speak to her, but she doesn’t even bother acknowledging Quinn anymore.  
  
Quinn can’t breathe, she can barely even force herself to swallow. She feels nauseous and she can feel her back covered in a cold sweat.  
  
‘Nonoononononono,’ she thinks to herself, desperately trying to do something to catch Rachel’s eyes. She wants to see _some_ warmth, some softness, some indication Rachel still likes her. But there’s nothing.  
  
_Poof_. It’s like she’s disappeared.  
\--  
  
Hope is chilly on the ride home, and they are in the subterranean parking garage of their apartment complex when she finally speaks to Quinn.  
  
“That was really awful what you said about Rachel. I can’t believe you’re even capable of saying stuff like that! She’s our _friend_ and you were _mean_. You’re just lucky she didn’t hear what you said, because if she had, she probably would have had us both thrown out or something. I know I’d be angry at you if you said something like that about me.”  
  
‘No one would ever say something like that about you,’ Quinn thinks to herself and she wants to lash out at her roommate. Stupid fucking Hope with her stupid fucking consuming crush on Rachel. Stupid fucking Hope who just wouldn’t go away and leave Rachel so Quinn could have her without any guilt or drama. ‘Fuck you, Hope,’ Quinn thinks.  
  
All Quinn wants is to fix things with Rachel.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Quinn says softly, as she trails behind Hope up to their apartment.  
  
Because she knows it’s not Hope’s fault.  
  
Hope doesn’t say anything. She just goes to her room and shuts the door.  
  
Quinn stares at it for a long moment and then takes a deep breath and gets up. She grabs her purse and her keys and drives to Rachel’s apartment.  
  
\--  
  
She knows Rachel is home because the lights are on.  
  
Rachel opens the door, but stands in the doorway, blocking Quinn’s entry.  
  
Quinn’s heart sinks because Rachel looks like she’s been crying. Her eyes are red and swollen, and she’s wearing her glasses which Rachel hardly ever does. A lump forms in Quinn’s throat when she realizes Rachel’s eyes were probably too swollen for her to continue wearing her contact lenses.  
  
Even still, Rachel is very composed when she answers the door.  
  
“Hello,” Rachel greets politely. “What are you doing here?”  
  
Her tone is extremely frosty. Quinn doesn’t think she’s ever heard Rachel sound or look quite so cold.  
  
It’s intimidating and she feels like an ugly ten year old again, shrinking under the dismissive, disdainful gaze of one of the more popular, prettier girls.  
  
“Can…can I come in?” Quinn asks timidly.  
  
Rachel’s face is expressionless. “Well, to be honest, Quinn. I’d really rather you didn’t.” She starts to close the door.  
  
“Wait!” Quinn cries out, blocking the door from closing. “Please? Just for a few minutes? Please?”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“I want to explain. What I said. I--”  
  
“You’re entitled to your opinion. You don’t find me attractive, nor are you attracted to me. I--” Rachel’s voice catches a little. “I could fathom that.”  
  
“You’re beautiful!” Quinn bursts out. “Let me explain why I--”  
  
“I thought I made it clear I don’t like playing games,” Rachel interrupts. “As evidenced by the fact I very clearly told you I don’t like playing games. You’re playing games, and I don’t have the time for it.” She pushes the door to close it, but Quinn pushes back.  
  
“Please? Just give me a few minutes.”  
  
Rachel stares at her for a moment, then shrugs dismissively and takes a few steps back. She waves her hand exaggeratedly to motion Quinn in. She has this look on her face like nothing Quinn could say would ever have any meaning to her, but she’s deigning to hear Quinn out anyway. Quinn shrinks under Rachel’s gaze, and she feels like a little kid again, wilting under her father’s hard gaze while he screams “look at me when I’m talking to you!” his face turning red with rage when all she could do was stare at the ground in shame.  
  
\--  
  
Rachel shuts the door for privacy. She and Quinn stand by the door and Rachel folds her arms across her chest.  
  
“Please continue,” she says politely. But she’s still so, so cold.  
  
“Hope likes you,” Quinn informs her quietly. “She’s liked you since last year, when you guys had that music theory class together.”  
  
“Yes, I heard you say something about that,” Rachel says dryly.  
  
“She liked you first,” Quinn says. “But then _we_ became friends and _I_ liked you. And I didn’t think you were interested until you told me you were. And I was just…I…” she swallows hard. “I was trying to make you less attractive for Hope so she would just move _on_ , so she wouldn’t be upset when she found out we’re dating.”  
  
“I suppose that’s no longer a problem since we’re not dating anymore.”  
  
“Don’t say that,” Quinn pleads quietly.  
  
“I must confess, I didn’t think we would only date for a few days,” Rachel muses.  
  
“Please don’t say that,” Quinn begs. “I didn’t mean it. Of _course_ you’re beautiful.”  
  
Rachel chuckles. “Frankly, Quinn, I have an easier time believing you _don’t_ find me attractive. It’s okay, though, Quinn. Truly. You don’t need to spare my feelings. You don’t think I’m attractive, and again, I can fathom that.”  
  
“You’re beautiful,” Quinn whispers.  
  
Rachel gives her a small smile. “Thank you, but you truly don’t have to say that. Please go home now.”  
  
“Wait,” Quinn pleads and she thinks about the old adage of actions being louder than words and so Quinn reaches for Rachel and grasps her by the arm. She pulls Rachel close, but when she tries to kiss her, Rachel flinches. Quinn gulps hard, but it doesn’t dislodge the lump in her throat. She steps away. “Rachel,” Quinn says pleadingly. “Believe me. Please.”  
  
Rachel shrugs. “Either way, it doesn’t paint you in a very good light. You knew Hope had feelings for me, but you let me pursue you. Then you badmouthed me to try to make me look less attractive so you wouldn’t have to tell Hope that we’re dating. I would have preferred the route of honesty, even if it would have been slightly more difficult and awkward.”  
  
“I didn’t want to hurt her,” Quinn says weakly.  
  
Rachel nods. “Admirable, but I hope you can concede not very comforting for me.”  
  
“I’m so sorry,” Quinn whispers. “I know I said awful things, but I think you’re beautiful. I just wanted you to myself…by whatever means necessary.”  
  
“Quinn,” Rachel says flatly. “Your appeal is rapidly diminishing with everything you’re saying. Please _get out_.”  
  
“Please,” Quinn pleads. “Please don’t say that!”  
  
Rachel is just so _cold_ and Quinn always thought Rachel was about as far from Russell Fabray as a person could get and still be considered part of the human race. But right now-- with Rachel so calmly dismissive and so full of disdain, Quinn can’t help but think of her father and she doesn’t know how to handle that other than to beg Rachel to care about her again. She didn’t know Rachel could be capable of such _clinical_ cruelty, because there’s no way Rachel is unaware of how hurtful she’s being.  
  
Rachel stares at her for a long moment and then sighs, relenting ever so slightly. “Listen, Quinn…” Rachel says softly, and then trailing off.  
  
And Quinn just _knows_ she’s getting the brush-off. It’s in the quality of Rachel’s voice.  
  
“I like you a lot,” Rachel continues. “I think you’re a great person, and despite this whole thing, I believe you’re an honest person. But I have a lot going on in my life and while I _definitely_ have enough time for a relationship, I _don’t_ have time for head games. I enjoy and appreciate drama as much as anyone else and back in high school, maybe this could have been fun. But I don’t have the time to always wonder if you’re being real or if you’re just trying to manipulate me. I don’t feel we’re an appropriate match anymore and I don’t want to waste your time or mine. We haven’t even gone out on a proper date yet, and I think we can simply go back to being friends .”  
  
Quinn swallows. “I don’t accept.”  
  
Rachel raises an eyebrow. “This isn’t a negotiation, Quinn. I do _not_ want to date you.”  
  
“You’re not even giving me a chance,” Quinn says quietly. And it’s not like her to debase herself like this-- this groveling is beneath her and is really hurting her pride. But then again, the machinations she pulled tonight with Hope and Rachel are beneath her, too and Quinn just wants to feel like herself again, and to get there, she needs to try to get Rachel to really see her again. “You’re judging me by _one_ action. It was a monumental screw-up, but--”  
  
“Quinn,” Rachel interrupts gently. “I’d rather we go back to being friends. I don’t want to date you.”  
  
Quinn deflates. “I like you,” she says softly. “I’d like to date you.”  
  
Rachel sighs. “I just don’t think you’re worth dating anymore.”  
  
Quinn feels like Rachel just kicked her in the stomach, and she takes a few steps back, one hand absently drifting over her stomach to clutch at the fabric of her shirt, as if that would take away the rock that just formed there. Tears fall from her eyes.  
  
“You don’t mean that,” Quinn tries.  
  
‘Please take it back,’ Quinn thinks.  
  
Rachel sighs after a long pause. “No, of course I don’t Quinn,” she admits. “It’s just that I no longer find you trustworthy. I told you. I don’t play games. I’ve been very upfront with you and I thought you’d afford me the same courtesy.”  
  
“You _can_ trust me,” Quinn pleads.  
  
Rachel shakes her head. “I don’t have time to play games, Quinn.”  
  
“I’m not,” Quinn insists. “Please. Just give me another chance. I promise you. No games. And I’ll be totally honest.”  
  
Rachel tilts her head to regard Quinn for a long, silent moment. “Will you tell Hope about us? And about what you were doing tonight?” she asks finally. “And I mean sometime in the next 72 hours, not some indefinite time in the future.”  
  
Quinn’s stomach plummet at the propsect, but she agrees quickly.  
  
“Okay,” Quinn says softly.  
  
Rachel relents. “I’ll go with you, if you want.”  
\  
Quinn swallows again. “Will you really?”  
  
“I don’t offer things I don’t intend to follow through on, Quinn. Will you really tell her?”  
  
Quinn nods. “Yes.”  
  
Rachel sighs and her expression is soft again. “If she takes it poorly, you can stay with me until she calms down. I did contribute to the problem, even if I did so unknowingly.”  
  
Quinn swallows. “Thank you,” she whispers.  
  
Rachel heaves a deep sigh. “I was planning an elaborate first date to attempt to woo you, but to be frank, now _you_ need to start planning the date and woo _me_. And you will have to put effort into it that you would not have had to a few hours ago.”  
  
Quinn can’t help grinning. “I can do that.”  
  
Rachel smiles back.”No more games, okay? I can’t do this is you’re not going to be upfront with me. I don’t like being manipulated. I understand that every relationship may have a small, inconsequential lie here and there, but I won’t tolerate being manipulated or being used to manipulate someone else. ”  
  
“I promise not to do that,” Quinn says quietly.  
  
Rachel leans up on tiptoe to kiss Quinn’s cheek. “Sit down and make yourself comfortable. I’ll get you something cold to drink because you’re _sweating_.” She wipes her hand across Quinn’s forehead. “Were you really that nervous?”  
  
“Yes,” Quinn says, cupping the side of her neck with her left hand. ‘Shitting bricks,’ as Santana would say. She feels _exhausted_ now.  
  
Rachel leads Quinn to the couch.  
  
“Sit,” she says softly, pushing Quinn gently.  
  
Quinn sits down and grabs the book Rachel was obviously reading before she stopped in. The book is open, face down and Quinn picks it up and skims the page. It’s _East of Eden_ and Rachel has written ‘Caleb Trask’ in the margin with a big heart around it. She’s utterly amused by Rachel’s tendency to get crushes on fictional characters. She hopes she can compare or compete-- it was pretty hard to stand up to someone fictional.  
  
Rachel comes back with a cold glass of root beer with a little bit of lemonade on top, easy ice, just the way Quinn likes it.  
  
“You don’t like root beer,” Quinn points out.  
  
“This is true,” Rachel acknowledges. “But _you_ like it.” She smiles. “I notice things about you and I thought it would be wise for me to keep things you like on hand.”  
  
Quinn takes a long gulp and clenches the cold glass in her hand. She’s starting to feel a little better, but she still feels nervous.  
  
“I’m so sorry,” Quinn whispers. “I can be such a bitch sometimes.”  
  
“It’s okay,” Rachel says quietly. “So can I.”  
  
“Not that I’ve seen…”  
  
Actually, Rachel was a little bitchy tonight, but Quinn knows now is not the time to dwell on it.  
  
Rachel smiles wryly. “Trust me. I can be very… unpleasant.”  
  
Quinn swallows hard. “I believe you.”  
  
“I don’t like playing games,” Rachel said softly, but firmly. “I don’t like being played with. I’ve been honest with you and I expect the same courtesy. I’m giving in on this because I really like you a lot and I’d really like to see where we go-- I think it can be very good. But don’t start to believe I’m going to be easily manipulated. I need someone who is going to be as forthright with me and I am with them.”  
  
“I will be, I promise,” Quinn says quietly.  
  
Rachel smiles. “Okay.”  
  
“Okay?” Quinn questions softly.  
  
Rachel smile broadens. “Yes. Okay. Didn’t I tell you I don’t play games? I don’t plan on making a show of it. It’s simply okay, Quinn.”  
  
Quinn smiles, relieved. “Okay.”  
  
\--  
  
Telling Hope is worse than Quinn expected.  
  
Hope just looks so hurt and betrayed.  
  
“But you _knew_ I liked her,” Hope says, addressing Quinn. “If you liked her too, why did you let me go on about her? Now I feel like an _idiot_. And if you liked her, why would you say all those mean things about her? I don’t get it. Why would you do something like that?”  
  
Quinn doesn’t have a good enough answer for that.  
  
“Hope,” Rachel interjects gently. “I’m so sorry it worked out this way. I’m sure Quinn was just trying to find a way so you wouldn’t get hurt. You’ve become very precious to me as a friend,” she said stressing the word ‘friend.’ “ And I don’t want to lose your friendship. I understand you may want some distance from us for a while, but I truly hope you’ll come back to us soon,” she says quietly. “You’re important to me. You’re important to both of us.”  
  
Hope is quiet for a long time and then sighs deeply. “Sure,” she says. “That sounds great, Rachel.” She swallows hard. “I have to get to a study group. I’ll see you later.”  
  
“All right,” Rachel murmurs.  
  
Hope doesn’t acknowledge Quinn as she leaves.  
  
“Shit,” Quinn curses softly when the front door shuts.  
  
Rachel rubs Quinn’s shoulder. “Maybe she just needs some time.”  
  
Quinn feels _awful_  
  
\--  
  
It’s horrifically awkward living with Hope when Hope is that upset. Her roommate is polite and self-contained, so Hope doesn’t comment on it any further and after that first day, Hope treats her the same way. It’s not like Hope ignores her or anything juvenile like that. But it’s _awkward_. Something definitely changes, despite Hope’s good Southern manners.


	5. Part 5

Once December hits, Quinn sits her final exams but stays for an extra ten days because Rachel’s 19th birthday in on the 18th.

Rachel doesn’t go home to Ohio for her birthday and says she has no plans to go back for any point during the winter break.

This puzzles Quinn a little because Rachel speaks fairly highly of her parents and she thinks Rachel would want to see them.

“Why don’t you ever go home?” Quinn asks her one night, when it’s just the two of them after one of Rachel’s big hosted dinners. Everyone else has gone home from the dinner and Rachel’s birthday is still a week away. She’s asked Rachel before, but they’re closer now, so she hopes she’ll get a better answer.

“It’s complicated,” Rachel answers. “I love my parents, but I feel a lot of pressure when I’m around them to be a certain way. I finally really feel like myself and like I don’t owe anyone anything. It’s just easier for me to be here than there.”

“What way do you have to be?”

Rachel shrugs. “It’s complicated. My mom was just supposed to be a surrogate. But after I was born, I guess she had a hard time letting me go.”

“I don’t blame her,” Quinn says softly.

“She signed a contract to stay away until I was 18, but she kept violating it. She was supposed to move to New York and be on Broadway, but she said once she gave me up, she just lost the drive.” Rachel pauses. “So with my mom, I just feel really bad for her, like I ruined her dreams.”

“Maybe her dreams just changed,” Quinn points out.

Rachel shrugs. “Maybe. But sometimes I feel like she wishes she never answered that ad, like if I’d never been born, maybe she would be a successful Broadway actress. She has this _amazing_ singing voice, so I just feel this pressure when I’m around her to have _achieved_ something and I really haven’t yet. She looks at me, and I feel like I’ve disappointed her with my lack of achievement.”

“You’re only eighteen,” Quinn points out. “And every time you play, the venue gets packed.”

“Nineteen in a week,” Rachel says with a smile. “And then with my dads…” Rachel trails off. “They want me to be famous and I’m not yet. I want to _achieve_ something. I want to be _great_. They don’t really get that, they wouldn’t care if I achieved like Barbra Streisand or did nothing like Paris Hilton. They put me in the pageant circuit and always put me in all these competitions because they liked the exposure…” she trails off when she sees Quinn grimace. “What?”

“Nothing,” Quinn says. “I just always found little kids in pageants to be creepy.”

“It wasn’t all bad. I won a few of them, and some singing and dance competitions, too. I won money that my parents put into a trust for me. It helps pay my bills now.”

“They did?” Quinn asked, surprised.

“Yes, of course. Why?” Rachel asks.

“I guess I just assumed your parents would have...” she trails off.

“What? Stolen it?” Rachel asks. “Quinn Fabray, I am not Gary Coleman!” she says indignantly.

Quinn bursts into laughter at the image. “ _Oh_ my God.”

“My parents and I want different things, but they would never steal from me. All the money I ever made, they put into a trust for me. Even when each of them got cancer and the medical bills piled up, they didn’t touch it,” Rachel says softly.

Quinn nods. “Okay,” she murmurs. “So tell me why you don’t want to go home?”

“I just feel a lot of pressure from them-- my parents stress me out. Everything turns into an interrogation and they make me feel like I ‘m not working hard enough and I’m doing the best I can. I don’t want to fight with them the way Audrey does, so I just say ‘thank you,’ every time they criticize me and I’m just tired of putting on an act with them. And since Audrey fights with my parents _all_ the time, I feel obligated to be the buffer and sometimes I resent having to be the peacemaker. I’m an actress. I’m singer. But I’m not a therapist. So it’s just easier for me to stay here.”

Quinn nods solemnly, though she privately feels having three parents who want her desperately enough to be too involved would be better than an absentee father. Still, the more she hears about Rachel’s parents, the more she finds them a little…creepy.

“But don’t they want you home?” Quinn questions. If she stayed away from home too long, her mother would lose it.

Rachel shakes her head. “They prefer I work on my career here. It works out for all of us.”

“Oh,” Quinn says softly.

It silent for a while until Rachel speaks again.

“I took care of all of them at one point or another,” Rachel says quietly. “Each of my parents had cancer-- a few years apart. I never really told anyone about it.”

Quinn stays quiet-- Rachel’s never told her until this moment, but she already knew from Audrey.

“I tried to take care of all of my parents when they were sick and I was happy to do it. And of course, I had to consider Audrey. I know perhaps this is selfish of me, but I came out here and I _stay_ here because I just wanted to take care of myself for a while. Can you understand that? Do you think I’m selfish?”

Quinn has never taken care of another person or thing-- just herself. She was the baby of her family, and was therefore the one always taken care of. Even when she was ignored and bullied at school for being…too much of everything, she was still taken care of at home. And then when she lost the weight and her skin cleared up and she put some highlights in her hair, suddenly, people were all too eager to cater to her needs. She has no idea what it’s like to take care of someone else, but she certainly understands the desire to look out for number one, and so for better or worse, she can’t find anything selfish about it.

“I can understand that. And I don’t think you’re selfish.”

Rachel smiles at her. “It means a lot to me that you don’t think I’m selfish.”

Privately, Quinn thinks Rachel has traded in taking care of her family for taking care of the strays of UCLA. But Rachel seems happy enough and if Rachel is happy, Quinn’s happy.

\--

A few days later, Quinn sprawls on the couch reading the latest issue of _Cosmopolitan_ and thinking the sex tips would be completely unhelpful to her and Rachel and also that trying to use some of them may end with a person in traction.

Rachel cleans her apartment to get ready for Audrey’s visit, as Audrey is driving up to visit Rachel for her birthday before Audrey heads home to Ohio for Winter Break.

Despite the fact Rachel talks to Audrey regularly, Quinn can see Rachel is genuinely excited for Audrey’s visit. Quinn really doesn’t understand how a person can get so excited for a sibling visit-- if Zoey ever visited her, she’d be nervous about her sister’s inevitable scrutiny, but she wouldn’t be excited or happy the way Rachel is.

Rachel cleans while Quinn reads and just tries to stay out of Rachel’s way. She keeps offering to help, but Rachel has a specific way she likes to get things done, so Rachel keeps declining.

Quinn gets the story of Rachel and Audrey, something Quinn has heard in bits and pieces, but never got the full story.

They were raised together, but usually lived apart-- raised just a few blocks from one another, only far enough that they were zoned to different schools most of the time. Once Audrey was born, their fathers wanted a part in her life, and if they wanted a part in Audrey’s life, their mother, Shelby, insisted she be allowed to be a part of Rachel’s life-- contract be damned. The relationship between the fathers and the mother was always strained-- the visitation section of the family law order spanned pages and _pages_ , but Rachel always relished that she got the best of both worlds-- two dads and a mother.

“What girl could ask for more?” Rachel asks with a laugh. “They had problems, of course, what parents don’t? But I got three parents without having to go through some contentious divorce. It was great.”

Quinn suspects there’s more to the story, but she’s okay with waiting to hear about it because she feels like they have plenty of time.

\--

Audrey shows up at the apartment and Rachel is grinning from ear to ear. In seconds, they are a tangle of limbs.

Rachel rocks Audrey to-and-fro. “You got so fat!” she exclaims, teasingly, the way sisters do. “Freshman fifteen for you!”

“Oh, fuck off, No Boobs!”.

They look at one another and burst into laughter.

“Hi, Quinn,” Audrey greets, and she seems a little chilly.

\--

They leave the apartment to get something to eat at a tiny Italian restaurant on Westwood Boulevard. Rachel’s indulging in a non-vegan night and Quinn is content to just sit back and observe Rachel be happy.

The sisters talk about Audrey’s impending visit home. They mock each other for embarrassing moments in childhood, and then Audrey says, “I wish you were coming home with me, but you have all your stupid shows.”

Rachel grins. “You’ll be okay, little one. You know I’d go home with you otherwise.”

Rachel turns to give Quinn a tiny, surreptitious smile and Quinn smiles back. Quinn happens to see Audrey’s expression in her peripheral vision-- she looks _murderous_

\--

Rachel drinks too much water and so excused herself to use the restroom.

Quinn’s left alone with Audrey, and she really wants Rachel’s family to like her, especially Audrey, who Rachel says is the most important person in the world to her.

“How’s school?” Quinn asks, plastering a friendly, interested smile to her face.

Audrey stares at her for a long moment and huffs. She looks away and grabs her water glass, taking a long gulp.

“Uh, Audrey?” Quinn asks, wondering what has crawled up Audrey’s ass.

Audrey glares at her with so much hostility, Quinn nearly cringes. She’s bewildered by the hostility emanating from the other girl because the last time she saw Audrey, they were pretty cool with one another.

“Why are you even with my sister anyway?” Audrey asks belligerently. “You don’t even think she’s that pretty,” she says her tone venomous. “Apparently you can’t ever be attracted to her.”

Quinn can feel the blood drain out of her face. Of _course_ Rachel must have told Audrey about it-- they’re close. And as protective and maternal Rachel is toward Audrey, they aren’t even a year apart in age, and sisters talk about this sort of thing. Or so Quinn’s told.

“Audrey--”

“Save it. She may be dumb enough to buy what you’re selling, but I’m not. I don’t know why you’re playing my sister when she’s only been good to you, but you’re not going to last. I won’t let it. You’re a _bitch_ and I don’t want _my_ sister with someone like _you_.”

Neither notice Rachel has approached the table again.

“Audrey.” Rachel states sternly, before giving her sister a hard smack to the back of her head.

“Ow!” Audrey shrieks, rubbing her head. “You _cow!_.”

“You don’t speak to Quinn that way. You don’t speak to _anyone_ that way.”

Audrey shoots Quinn a hateful glance before turning back to Rachel. “I’m just looking at for you, idiot.”

Rachel’s infuriated expression softens. “I look after you, not the other way around,” she says quietly.

“I don’t approve of her!” Audrey exclaims crossly.

“You don’t have to.”

“I thought my opinion mattered to you!”

“It does.” Rachel says quietly. She glances around and she can see people are staring because it’s a small restaurant. But they need to hash this out now. “Your opinion means _everything_ to me, and it’s very upsetting you don’t approve of someone I care about very much. But you know I’ve always believed everyone has to find their own way and my way just led me to finding her.”

“When you break up, I’m going to rub your nose in it,” Audrey warns. “And you’ve got a big nose, Barbra Streisand.”

“I would not expect any less from you, sister.”

“And then I’ll kill her,” Audrey says.

“I’ll allow it,” Rachel chuckles.

Quinn makes an instinctive, displeased noise. It’s also wholly involuntary and she feels kind of embarrassed for it.

“I’m merely being honest, darling,” Rachel tells her. “If we break up, I will likely wish ill on you. It’s just my way.”

“Yeah, well…whatever,” Quinn says petulantly.

Rachel laughs and presses a kiss to Quinn’s cheek. “Don’t be sad. I hope we last a long, long time.”

That makes Quinn feel infinitesimally better, because she’s still upset Rachel would be okay with Audrey killing her. She knows it’s implausible, but it’s the principle of it. “Okay.”

\--

Audrey’s visit is brief-- just a few days and Quinn makes herself scarce because she wants to give Rachel some space to enjoy spending time alone with her sister. But she checks in every night because she has a nagging suspicion Audrey is trying to poison the well against her.

But each night, Rachel says good night to her in the same way she always has-- nothing changes and Quinn feels a little safer for it.

\--

Audrey leaves her car with Rachel for the duration of Audrey’s visit home. She plans to pick it up again after she comes back from Lima, but before she goes back to San Diego. Audrey parks her car in Rachel’s assigned spot while Rachel tries to find street parking.

Quinn and Audrey are left alone while Rachel searches.

It’s awkward because neither of them speak.

Rachel takes a little longer than expected and Quinn wonders if the parking is _that_ bad. The parking is atrocious in that part of the city, and Rachel is a terrible driver with abysmal spatial skills. Still, there has to be something _somewhere_.

Rachel comes back with a brown paper bag of vegan pastries and three salted caramel hot chocolates.

“It was on the way,” Rachel says with a grin.”I had to park _so_ far away. It was like a death march through Russia. It was very _Doctor Zhivago_.” She pauses thoughtfully. “I wonder how I’d look in one of those hats.”

Audrey rolls her eyes but takes a hot chocolate anyway.

\--

By the end of the afternoon, they’ve dropped Audrey off at the airport.

Quinn’s started to notice little flaws about Rachel, that somehow still manage to be cute. Rachel is a terrible driver and prone to road rage, so when a car cuts them off as they try to drive out of LAX, Rachel honks angrily. The guy throws a hand out of the window and sticks up his middle finger which provokes Rachel into rolling down her window, sticking her head out and screaming, “STICK IT IN YOUR MOTHER!”

By the time Rachel’s head is back in the car and she’s facing the road, she’s calm again.

“What a very discourteous driver,” she remarks.

Quinn laughs in amused disbelief.

They return to Rachel’s apartment and snuggle up on the couch. It’s a dreary December day-- ‘scarf weather’ as Rachel deems it.

It makes Quinn a little sad that in a few days, Rachel will be dropping her off at the airport, too. She doesn’t like the idea of leaving Rachel alone.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come home with me? My mom keeps nagging me about it.”

Rachel laughs. “One day,” she says with a nod. “I’d like to meet your mother and thank her for raising you, of course. It’s just…now is a little soon and it will be nice to have some time to myself.”

“And _Jesse_ will be here,” Quinn says, a little petulantly.

“He’s just a friend,” Rachel murmurs.

“I know.”

Quinn really hates him, but only because he has a part of Rachel that she’s not privy to. They have all kinds of secret little smiles, inside jokes and an emotional language of their own. He’s an _asshole_ , but he’s good to Rachel and Quinn fears the day he tries to take Rachel from her.

Rachel snuggles into Quinn. “You’re my perfect fit,” she declares. “Jesse and I were too similar, much like congruent triangles. But you and I, we’re just different enough to be complementary,” she grins. “We add up to 90 degrees which makes us just right and we can exist in the same triangle. Jesse and I never could because we’d fight over who gets to be the right angle.”

Quinn rolls her eyes at how nerdy Rachel is being.

“Metaphors are important,” Rachel reminds.

“That really wasn’t a metaphor,” Quinn tells her. “That was just sad.”

“What if I gave you a necklace with a triangle on it?” Rachel asks.

“I guess that would be a metaphor,” Quinn reluctantly agrees. “Would it be pink?”

“No,” Rachel says. “That would make the metaphor a little too heavy, thus diminishing, if not negating, its importance.”

Quinn sighs. “You really are such a nerd.”

“And yet I appeal to you.”

“Yeah,” Quinn concedes. “Mysteriously.”

Rachel chortles. She gets up and walks to her kitchen. Quinn watches as Rachel opens a drawer and pulls out a small object and then comes back to the couch with it.

“Here,” Rachel says, passing Quinn a jewelry box.

“What’s this?” Quinn whispers.

“A pony,” Rachel deadpans. “We’ll gallop through meadows on him together. His name is Sparkle.”

Quinn smacks Rachel’s stomach for her insouciance. “Oh, shut up.”

Quinn opens it and blinks when she sees a gold triangle necklace.

“I know it’s a bit much,” Rachel says quickly. “But I come across a little strongly in the beginning of a relationship.” She points to one end of the triangle. “That’s you.” She points to the other. “And that’s me.” Her mouth quirks into a smile. “And if we ever have any children, they can be the right angle.”

“You’re such a nerd,” Quinn whispers.

“This is true,” Rachel acknowledges.

“But we said wouldn’t get each other gifts. You wouldn’t let me buy you a Hanukah _or_ birthday present.”

Rachel shrugs. “This isn’t a Christmas present. This is a ‘don’t you dare forget me while you’re in Texas’ present. It’s actually very emotionally manipulative now that I think of it.”

“Put it on me,” Quinn orders softly.

“I will be happy to accommodate your polite request,” Rachel grins.

Quinn turns and lifts her hair while Rachel secures the necklace. She turns back to look at Rachel. “What do you think?”

Rachel gazes into Quinn’s face. “You’re beautiful.”

Quinn decides that despite Rachel’s mathematical perspicacity (she’s apparently a math whiz on top of being hyperverbal), she would make a _terrible_ gambler because Rachel’s the kind of person who lays out all her cards.

Quinn, on the other hand, is an excellent gambler-- she learned how to play poker and blackjack on her daddy’s knee. But she’s not a gambler-- the thrill has never quite outweighed the risk.

But then there’s Rachel. Quinn wants to take that bet, because she is certain the payoff is going to be worth the risk. Things are still new between them-- they are young, but neither of them are stupid enough to rush into anything. But there’s an unspoken agreement they’re headed for somewhere serious and Quinn thinks they’ll both be ready when that time comes.

Quinn is fairly certain Rachel is the dealer in this little arrangement they have going, but Rachel has laid out all her cards and Quinn is all in.

Rachel holds up her phone. “It’s time for another picture,” she says cheerfully. “Nearly a month in. Documentation is very important.”

Quinn wraps her arm around Rachel and Rachel rests her head on Quinn’s shoulder. They both smile into the camera. The shutter goes off and Quinn blinks against the flash.

“See?” Rachel asks, showing Quinn the picture. “We’re a match.”

They do indeed look well-matched and complementary.

Quinn smiles. “I like it.”

“And we’re just getting started,” Rachel says lightly.

The End.


End file.
